


take off your colors

by seokminsun



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Interns & Internships, M/M, Non-Idol AU, Office Romance, alternative universe, day6 (all expect wonpil sorry), fashion intern au, pain and beauty of love and friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seokminsun/pseuds/seokminsun
Summary: Mingyu’s life is a series of mistakes. There’s been a lot of good parts, too, but essentially, he always manages to fuck up, one way or another.But never would he think that the sweet guy he hooked up with in a nightclub would turn up at his first day of internship. That the guy is an intern at the same magazine and seems to hate his guts weren’t also parts of his plans.He’s seriously, royally, totally screwed this time.





	1. you make me say wow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pulses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulses/gifts).



> thank you so much for your prompts!! they all sounded like a lot of fun and i had a great time writing this (very long) fic. i'm sorry for the late entry, but i hope it's worth the wait!  
> 
> 
> i really hope you'll enjoy reading this fic, even though it's a lot haha, and i hope you're pleased with how your prompt turned out. <3
> 
> based on the prompt " _graphic design intern mingyu and fashion market/editorial intern minghao are constantly finding ways to butt heads with each other despite being from different departments. as seoul fashion week approaches, they're assigned to the same project and suddenly finding common ground is do or die. seokmin as mingyu's roommate and childhood friend! minghao as an ex dazed magazine intern! clothes sharing of course, but it's even more high stakes in this universe!_ "
> 
> a HUGE, special thank you to [mik0rin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mik0rin) who not only beta:d this fic, but also fixed the formatting so amazingly. (she's an angel. it's a 33k fic. there's a _lot_ of hmtl that needs fixing.)

Kim Mingyu is generally pretty bad at making decisions.

It’s been like this his whole life, really, from when he was a little boy and wanted to bake a cake for Mother’s day with Seokmin to his teens, when he wanted to be a good friend to some of the guys in the class and held their beer for them.

Every time he made a decision, it would come back to bite him in the ass; say, setting the kitchen on fire or getting caught with a beer in his hand by a police officer.

It was not fun. Either of those things, really. His parents had been outraged at him for both, and hadn’t let him eat the piece of pie for dessert when he was younger and they had grounded him when he was older. Seokmin, being the faithful friend he was, had made it his daily task to cheer him up on the days he were grounded. Mingyu would see him collect some stuff from his room - which was opposite of Mingyu’s -, walking across the green garden that separated their houses, and rang the doorbell on Mingyu’s house with that bright smile of his.

Mr and Mrs Kim, being so smitten with Seokmin’s charms and honest appearance, would always let him go up to Mingyu’s room without second thoughts. Seokmin would dance into the room, all smiles and positivity; a stark contrast to Mingyu’s scowls and dark clouds rolling off of him. He would plop down on his bed, despite Mingyu’s protests, and cheerfully chat away. Mingyu would continue sitting by his desk, doing his homework as he listened to what Seokmin had to say. He was very moody after the whole beer-incident, so he didn’t give as much answers nor comments, but Seokmin stayed with him still, his smile only dipping once or twice.

Looking back on it now, Mingyu realises he maybe wasn’t the best friend during that time. But he was angry and irritated and irrational, and he was cursing the person responsible for his pure unluck.

There is always a certain degree (of the consequences) of his decisions, of course, some worse and some better. Pulling a random guy in by the neck and clashing their teeth together under the electric club lights were maybe not the best decision Mingyu has ever made.

Mingyu wouldn’t blame himself, not at all. He had gone out with some friends from his classes, wanting to get to know them better and at the same time, have a good time with dancing and drinking. He was excited when they arrived to the club, happily walking into the soul-pounding music and warm temperature.

They walked to the bar together, wanting to start the night off rightly. They cheered and Mingyu smiled, feeling the drink slide down hotly through his throat and down to his belly. He shouted with a fist in the air, and took hold of the friend closest to him, which happened to be Youngwoon. He wasn’t much for dancing, or clubbing at all, but had agreed to come with the promise of free drinks and good company. He dragged him out on the dancefloor, and tried to get him dancing as best as he could. They had a good time, laughing at each other’s moves and when they stepped over their toes. Youngwoon wanted to return to the bar after a while, and Mingyu let him. He wanted to stay a little longer, really letting the atmosphere and the feeling right then to just sink in. He closed his eyes and spun around, _spinning spinning spinning spinni-_

He bumped into something, something hard and human-like. He would’ve fallen to the ground if not for the hands that hastily grabs his shoulder, steadying him on the floor. Mingyu looked to his saver, only to meet the gaze of two pairs of eyes staring intensely back at him.

“Are you okay?” His savior asked, his eyebrows drawn. The guy was a bit shorter than Mingyu himself, with red hair and black earrings gracing his ears. He had a cute nose, what Mingyu would call a little potato nose.

Mingyu smirked, his senses coming right back to him. “Now that you’re here, I am.”

The guy looked part unimpressed, part amused. Mingyu didn’t know if he would stay or go back to whatever he was doing, but to his surprise, he stayed and danced with him.

They were dancing around each other and Mingyu had a big grin on his face the entire time. The other guy, whose name was still a mystery, was a good dancer (to Mingyu’s big delight). He made moves that looked very professional, and he had an extraordinary good sense of rhythm.

As the bass pounded on and shook the floor, Mingyu started to dance closer to the redhead. He could only hear the music in his ear and feel the closeness from the other, and it felt like everything went in slow motion when Mingyu took small steps forward, angling his face downwards, little by little. The other was quick to see his plans, tilting his head up and parting his lips. Mingyu closed the last inch, bringing their lips together with surprisingly softness.

The guy was skinny, his elbow jutting into Mingyu’s ribcage as they wrapped around each other, but his _mouth_. It did magic and Mingyu didn’t mind cutting himself on the guy’s body, as long as he had access to his mouth.

As the kiss grew longer, so did the intensity of it. Soon, their teeth were grinded together and Mingyu didn’t want it ever to stop.

“Minghao,” the guy mumbled against his lips. Mingyu nearly broke the kiss, not being able to focus on anything else than his face.

“Hm?”

“My name’s Minghao,” he said, and the sound escaped into Mingyu’s mouth.

That moment, the moment of kissing the guy, wasn’t something Mingyu thought he’d regret. And he didn’t. At least not as much as he could have.

But _sleeping with the guy_ , however, was much, _much_ worse. At the moment, it didn’t feel wrong at all, on the contrary, but in hindsight, _God_.

This night, a night Mingyu didn’t think would matter in just a couple of days, led to something that in the long run, would make him regret ever being born.

“Okay, so here we got the general lunch area, where people from all departments come to eat together. We have a small cafeteria on each level but everyone prefers this one,” Mingyu’s supervisor, Mrs Kang, says and gestures to the open and crisp cafeteria. Mingyu’s impressed, to say the least. Mrs Kang continues. “We got a new coffee machine to your right - just installed a week ago, - microwave there, a fridge if you need to keep your food cool, a-”

Mingyu catches sight of something red among the heads huddled together around the tables standing in the middle of the room. He dismisses it, thinking it was just a coincident he recognised the exact color, since so many people at Aqua Pura (working title) had dyed their hair. It _is_ a fashion magazine after all, where people do all kinds of stuff for appearance. But as he keeps looking, he sees the person look up at someone opposite him around the table, and he catches a glimpse of his face.

He sees the slope of his nose and the shape of his eyes. This time, Mingyu is sure. “Minghao!”

The sound is out before he could stop himself. People look up from what they’re doing to him with similar puzzled expressions. The sound is louder than he expected and now he feels himself flush under the attention, but he keeps his eyes on Minghao, who looks up with a blank face. When Minghao’s gaze meets Mingyu’s, realising where the sound came from, his eyes widen and he looks really taken aback for a second. Then, a scowl takes place and erases all previous emotions, and Mingyu feels himself slump a little when Minghao looks away.

“Hey!” Mingyu tries again, but Mrs Kang takes hold of his arm.

“Is there someone you know?” Mrs Kang says, holding his arm a little too hard. Mingyu gulps and looks at Minghao again, who still is ignoring his gaze.

“No,” he says after a moment, lowering his gaze. Mrs Kang drags him to the next thing on their intern-tour, speaking calmly but sternly.

“We don’t shout half across the cafeteria, Mr Kim, and we certainly don’t do that on our first day of internship,” the middle-aged, neat woman says and Mingyu can’t do anything about his face color under the stare.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Kang, it will not happen again,” he says, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

Mrs Kang gives him a pointed look. “It'd better not.”

They continue on with their tour and all that Mingyu can think about is Minghao’s nonchalance and the embarrassed, burning feeling in his chest when Minghao didn’t even spare him a glance.

 

 

—

 

 

Now, every time Mingyu sees a red head in the common area, he turns around to check if it was Minghao. Minghao, the slender, skinny boy with sharp elbows and soft mouth.

He looks and looks and it’s not until some weeks later, weeks of working tightly with different people of his department and trying to make a good impression, that he sees him again.

It’s in the small kitchen in the cafeteria, right to the the new coffeemaker. Mingyu’s in his own world, thinking of fonts and appealing pictures to his project, when he reaches for a coffee mug, only to knock hands with another set of hands. The other hand draws back first, and Mingyu looks sluggishly to his right. There, in all his red-headed glory, stands Minghao with that scowl on his face that never seems to leave.

“You,” Mingyu breathes out, a look of surprise on his face. “Why are you pretending like you don’t know me?”

Minghao recovers quickly from the initial shock. “Because I don’t.” His voice, as sharp as a whip. It certainly didn’t sound like that the first time they met.

“Can I offer you something? Coffee, tea, anything, so we can talk about this?” Mingyu says, turning his entire body to him. Minghao only raises an eyebrow at him.

“There’s coffee right next to you, Einstein,” he states with his voice dripping with boredom, and with that, he brushes past MIngyu without even looking at him.

Mingyu stands there, a puzzled expression on his face as he turns and follows Minghao with his eyes. _What’s gotten him so uptight?_

He did certainly not seem like the fun and carefree man he had met in a nightclub only weeks ago, and Mingyu has a feeling that he will see just how uptight he is in a short time.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Kim Mingyu likes punctuality. It is a need for everyone involved in relying on people to be there at the right time, so they can go on as planned and not risk getting late for something else in their schedule. Mingyu isn't one of those people who come twenty minutes early to something, since he has a tendency to forget time easily, but he always makes sure to be at the designated spot _at least_ some minutes early.

Xu Minghao does not like punctuality, it seems. On every morning meeting with the different departments, Minghao will come speed-walking into the room, two coffee cups in hands that he hands to his supervisors with a rushed smile. He isn’t scandalous late or anything, some minutes here and there, but it gets on Mingyu’s nerves. How he doesn't seem to be able to come just on the spot for _anything_. That he doesn't have any respect for anyone, since he is so adamant at never showing up on time.

That is just one thing Mingyu dislikes about Minghao. If he needed to, he can list probably ten more things Minghao does that gets on his nerves. For example, the way he always smiles and nods politely to everyone else but once he sees Mingyu, the smile turns upside down, the look turning sour on his face. He dislikes his way of talking, his slow pace like he expects everyone to listen carefully to his words and like he has all the time in the world.

He doesn’t like the way he dresses, either. At college, Mingyu never felt out of place when it came to clothes. Mingyu has fashionable clothes. But _Minghao_. Xu Minghao dresses like he expects to be a stand-in for a fashion walk at any second. Mingyu doesn’t like it because it makes him look bleak in comparison, even though MIngyu’s fashion sense is totally normal. Minghao just _has_ to experiment with his clothes, putting on big coats and ripped shirts, and it bugs Mingyu that it looks good even though it _shouldn’t_.

His hair started to annoy him, too, for some reason. It is smooth, way too smooth, and it is wavy and luxurious. Rude guys shouldn’t have such beautiful hair. It is like something mighty above decided to give all the best looking qualities to worst personality people.

Two weeks in the internship and he already feels like giving up. Not because his colleagues - who are all kind but slightly arrogant people -, not because of his work - making ads based on the customer’s wishes, helping a little with the layout - and not because it is boring (it is so fun Mingyu would gladly take his work home with him). No, it’s because of a stupid _boy_ , of all reasons.

One night, when Mingyu arrived to his dorm, he lets his briefcase drop to the floor and he falls to the bed face first. He groans into the pillow as Seokmin hums from across the room.

“That bad, huh?”

Mingyu doesn't bother lifting his face. “Even worse.”

“Now, I’m sure it’s not that bad” Seokmin’s voice is cheerful and free from any worries, and just today, it bothers Mingyu.

“Tone down the enthusiasm, would you?”

He hears a sigh. “Mingyu, think like this: You got an internship. At a big fashion magazine. Perfectly suited for your major. You’re really lucky, you know.”

“But I only got the job because I’m your best friend and your parents know me. Not because I’m good at it,” Mingyu does lift his face off the pillow, checking Seokmin’s reaction from where he is sitting at his desk, chair faced towards him. The latter looks like he wants to roll his eyes.

“Well, it’s true that they maybe considered you more since they’ve known you your whole life, but the rest are totally untrue. You _are_ good at it, Mingyu. It’s not just because they were being kind.”

Mingyu slumps in his bed again, now laying on his back. He turns his gaze to the roof, where he can see how the white paint is fading away. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you remember the final art project senior year?” Seokmin says, and a rush of happy, now slightly nostalgic memories goes through Mingyu’s head.

“It was only half a year ago,” Mingyu points out, but smiles. “Yes.”

“That big, carefully put together display about dreams and life? Everyone at the school admired it for weeks, you know.”

Mingyu feels a happy jump in his chest thinking back at it. Many people _did_ like it. He felt so proud, at that moment when he finished putting it together at the main entrance, knowing that whether people would like it or not. It would always be special to Mingyu.

“You’re good at making stuff, especially stuff for magazines and ads and layouts, so I don’t think you should doubt yourself that much.”

“Then what is it that’s making you so unhappy? You fit right in at the ads team, don't you?” A pause, then, “Is it about Minghao?”

Mingyu groans again. “Yes.”

“I still haven’t seen any proof that he is as bad as you say he is,” Seokmin says, and Mingyu laughs bitterly.

“That’s because he hides it from everyone except me!”

Seokmin swivels in his chair back to his computer and books, still sounding focused on Mingyu. “Okay then, what has he done that’s been so bad?”

“He ignores me and gives me the cold shoulder even though we have done really intimate stuff together! It’s like he changed from the nice, sincere guy I met to a person who’d murder in cold blood if he wanted to in just a couple of days,” Mingyu says, sprawled out like a starfish on his bed.

Seokmin, having being informed about Mingyu’s and Minghao’s hookup, continues writing on his screen. Mingyu really doesn't know how he is so good at multitasking. He never thought Seokmin would be good at that kind of stuff, but well, he is.

“That’s very weird,” Seokmin agrees, and Mingyu feels a rush of victory spread through his body. “He should at least acknowledge what happened between you guys and not just ignore it. That’s very immature of him.”

“I know!” Mingyu feels so relieved that someone believes him, believes how a part of Minghao’s behavior is so ugly. “Besides that, he’s got plenty of other flaws. He talks really annoyingly, he’s never on time, he doesn’t eat his vegetables-”

“Woah,” Seokmin says, turning back to face him. “Firstly, that’s very specific and detailed. Secondly, you can’t hate someone for the way they _talk_.”

“Of course I can,” Mingyu frowns, defending himself. “People are annoyed by accents and ways of talking all the time. Why can’t I be?”

“Because,” Seokmin reasons, looking like he is talking to a child. “That is stupid and you, my brilliant friend, shouldn’t follow the dead fish.”

“What if I am just a dead fish though?” Mingyu says, feeling a sense of despair creep upon him during this conversation. Seokmin only grins back at him.

“You don’t really believe that yourself, do you?”

“No,” Mingyu grumbles after a while, reluctant. Seokmin smiles softly at him now, his eyes turning into crescents.

“I thought so. Back to the issue in hand, I think Minghao seems to be an okay dude besides that whole ordeal thought,” Seokmin says thoughtfully, then adding quickly after seeing Mingyu’s face, “But of course I’ll stand behind you on this one, if you say he’s rude then he’s rude.”

“Good,” Mingyu says, hiding his face, but Seokmin raise a teasing eyebrow at him.

“You’re still sulking,” he sing songs, very obviously taking glee in his suffering. He really should get himself some new friends, Mingyu figures.

“Leave me alone,” Mingyu sighs for the last time, pressing his face even closer to the pillow. “He’s the worst, believe me. I’m allowed to sulk.”

Mingyu is cold and unsettled, so he creeps under the covers, fully clothed. The bed soon becomes warm with Mingyu’s body heat and he sighs contently as he switches position to lay on his stomach. He places his head carefully on the pillow again, his amazingly soft pillow, and thinks that just one minute of rest would do him good. He can do his assignments later. Just one minute of closing his eyes….

“I’m positive it’s all gonna turn out fine,” Mingyu hears Seokmin say from afar. Mingyu wants to chuckle and say _ever the optimist, Lee Seokmin_ but he is not sure his words carried out. His eyes finally flutter close and before he knows it, he is falling into a pit of darkness.

 

 

 

—

 

 

There is a sharp sound going off and Mingyu wakes up with a jolt, sitting up in bed. He rubs his eyes tiredly, immediately feeling the need to go back to sleep. It is too light in his room, his mouth feels dirt and- Wait. What?

Mingyu opens his eyes now, _really_ opening them, and looks around in the room with shock. It is light. 11am light, the soft yet growing light that comes through his window blinds. He feels something bad growing in his stomach and he is almost too afraid to drag his gaze to the alarm clock on his nightstand, but he does. His stomach drops. Oh no. Oh _no_.

Mingyu practically jumps out of bed, stripping down and putting on the nearest pair of jeans and shirt he can find, then rushes to his desk to grabs his phone and wallet before running out of his dorm, almost dropping the key when he locks the door shut.

He rushes down the student corridor, which is full of sleepy students in the doorways that are lucky enough to have late classes, and just at the door when he bumps into something and hears a loud _thud_. He takes a step back, managing to not fall to the ground, and as he turns his gaze to what bumped into him - or rather, what _he_ bumped into - he is horrified to see a girl standing there, with big, cat eye glasses perched on her nose and her hair in a bun on top of her head. She’s looking down at the ground, presumably shocked from the impact, and he immediately apologises.

“I’m sorry!” He says, feeling the panic bubble up inside of him. Not only coming late to a meeting, but also knocking into a pretty girl on the way. “It really wasn’t my intention!”

Because she really is pretty. As she looks up at him, he can see her brown eyes behind her green glasses, sparkling and deep, and he notices the green highlights in her hair that makes her glasses stand out even more. She’s shorter than him, of course, but she’s kind of tall and when she straightens up, he can see the way she holds herself; with confidence, like she rules the world and she knows it.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice smooth and deeper than most girls’. Mingyu feels weirdly intimidated by her. “Watch where you’re going next time, though.”

“Yes,” Mingyu automatically says, and the corner of the girl’s mouth turns a little upwards. “I will, I promise.”

She snorts. “Somehow, I doubt you’ll remember it.”

“Is there any way I can make it up to you?” MIngyu says, ignoring her words. “Coffee, tea, pastries?”

The girl raises her eyebrow. “Dude, I mean it. It’s cool.”

“I know,” he says, and he doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard. “But I won’t be able to walk away with a good conscience if I don’t somehow make it up to you.”

“Is this your way of asking me out?” She says with a raised eyebrow, taking Mingyu off guard.

“W-what?” He stutters, his mind entirely blank.

She rolls her eyes. “Please, let me spare your troubles.” She holds out her hand, palms up, and it takes a moment for Mingyu to realise she’s waiting for his phone. He pulls it out and gives it to her, feeling a little starstruck as she types her number into his contacts list.

“There,” she says, giving him another little smile and, this time, he notices how soft her mouth goes when she smiles. He takes the phone again, turning it towards him so he can look at the screen.

“Jimin,” he breathes out, looking up at her.

“That’s me,” she does a little salute with one hand. “Now, I’ve got to go. But hey, call me later.”

“Yeah,” he nods dumbly, watching as she walks past him with a little wave. He watches her until she’s disappeared around a corner, murmuring a <i<wow to himself. He stands there just a little longer, really taking in the fact that he got a gorgeous girl’s number just like that, before he realises why he got it in the first place.

“Fuck,” he mutters and sprints out the door, catching the first taxi he can find. Usually, he takes the subway or the bus but he makes a split second decision which involves a taxi because there’s not way in _hell_ he’s going to make it even remotely if he doesn’t.

It’s a lot of traffic and Mingyu feels something in his chest squeeze when he sees the long line of cars in front of him, and when the taxi driver sighs and shakes his head, his heart jumps into his throat. _I’m gonna be so late I’m gonna be so late I’m gonna be so late I’m gonna be so late-_

Finally, _finally_ , after what feels like hours, the taxi pulls up in front of the building and Mingyu presses one or two too many bills to the driver to take, almost tripping on his way out of the car. He sprints into the building just in time to see the elevator door closing and beginning its journey upwards. He looks around him and sees the stairs to the left, and he runs up several floors before seeing “Editorial staff” on the door leading to a hallway.

Before, he let himself not think about his supervisor and his colleagues and how they might react when he bursts into the room, because why encourage the ball of anxiety in his stomach? But now, standing in the room with everyone’s eyes on his tousled, out-of-breath self, he almost wishes he had prepared himself mentally for it.

They all stare at him, and it feels like minutes pass before anyone says anything. Luckily, Mrs Kang decides to say something to spare Mingyu at least a little decency.

“Well hello Mr. Kim,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “Finally deciding on showing up?”

Well, nope. Not trying to spare Mingyu anything.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says, but he knows it's to deaf ears. He sees most of the people in the grand meeting room looking away. “It was a lot of traffic.”

Mrs Kang looks impatient, tapping her foot on the floor with a bored expression, and she gestures to a seat in the middle of the table for him. “Sit down, please, so we can continue.”

Mingyu looks to where he’s pointing, and something in his stomach lurches when he sees a familiar face in the seat next to his. The face, unimpressed and a little amused, is something Mingyu _really_ did not need right now. He does what he’s told though, not wanting to prolong his embarrassment even more, and he quietly takes his seat as a young woman with a tiger outfit continues with what she was saying.

“Okay, so I was about to check if we’ve received the reportage about fall fashion this week, since I haven’t seen it in my emails…” Mingyu is acutely aware of some of his colleagues gaze on him and his cheeks warm before he can try to cool himself down. He tries to zone out, since it’s the best thing to do when you’ve done something really embarrassing or awkward, but it’s hard when he feels a particular someone’s eyes on him.

He tries to ignore it, he really does, but after a while, it feels ridiculous. And Mingyu is not ridiculous.

He looks to his right and meets Minghao’s gaze. He seems pleased he finally caved in, judging by the tiny upwards curl of his mouth. Minghao leans into him as if to say something, and Mingyu resist the urge to lean back in order to hear what he has to say. He’s curious, to say the least.

“Why are you late?” Minghao whispers, actually looking …. Sincere, maybe a little curious. Not _evil_.

Mingyu’s suspicious, but he knows he can’t act this immature. It won’t do, in the long run. So he leans in to whisper, “I overslept. And then the traffic was horrible.”

“Mr Kim,” someone at the end of the table clears his voice, and Mingyu whips to the side to see a woman with a gray work dress - a journalist? - looking pointedly at him.

He didn’t know his entire body from the inside could flush from shame, but of course, it can. Right at this moment. In the middle of room of high-profile people, looking down at the young, immature intern, thinking that he shouldn’t be there.

At least, that’s what he thinks they’re thinking.

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu mumbles, looking down at his lap, trying to swallow the feeling in his throat.

They all seem to forget about it pretty quickly, moving on with the next matter in hand, and Mingyu steals a quick glance at Minghao. He’s smiling, he realises with a start. A smug, small smile. Minghao suddenly meets his gaze, and gone is the sincere look in his eyes. He looks satisfied and amused, like he’s quietly laughing at Mingyu. _Evil._

Mingyu’s blood starts to boil and he stares down at the table, tuning out everything that’s being said. He thinks about how fucking _infuriating_ the other is, and wonders how unlucky his parents must have been to end up with a kid like that. But of course, they must be blind to his small, burning acts of rudeness and constant dislike. Like everyone else.

Mingyu starts to wonder if Minghao had lured him into a trap with the fake curiosity, just waiting for Mingyu to be publicly embarrassed once again, and then everyone’s standing, so he clumsily follows.

They exchange polite small talk and encouragement with the other departments on the way out, and Mingyu is in the middle of it when he spots a young man a little front of him talking animatedly with his hands with the woman beside him, all hand gestures and gasps. He thinks about it, how the woman smiles up at him and answers just as enthusiastically to whatever he’s saying. He would really want Seokmin there. Seokmin to crack jokes to lighten his mood, Seokmin to talk to and to convince of Minghao’s behavior, Seokmin to make everything better.

Too bad Seokmin’s set on being a contemporary art major to even consider working on his parents fashion magazine. It’s a shame in its own way, really, that he doesn’t want to be a writer of any sorts and work with fashion nor his parents. Mingyu understands it, totally, since they all have different goals and motivations and things that make them happy. But still. They could maybe get internships both at the same place, if they would be really lucky. They would eat in the cafeteria and go home together, complaining about the next big deadline or just enjoying how nice the weather, the job and the situation is.

But no. Now Mingyu is alone, complaining and not enjoying the nice weather so much; or, the lack of a nice weather. He’s alone with _Minghao_ and so many unfamiliar, intimidating good-looking people that are all older and far more experienced.

He pulls out his phone once he’s back at his small desk in the corner of the ads department’s working area, once everyone has their eyes glued to the screens and pays no attention to him.

He’s supposed to work with a small ad from a small fashion company, since they don’t trust him with bigger tasks yet, but he thinks just a minute or two talking to Seokmin won’t hurt.

Me

seok…..

what to do

i wish you were here

you’re so good at making me laugh…

Seokmin

i can almost hear your pouting through the phone!

don’t worry gyu; you’ll be back in some hours, right?

Me

that’s totally not the point

i’m bored and i have no friends here yet

i want you to save me

Seokmin

want me to send you memes or cute animal pics?

Me

can i get both?

Seokmin

you’re so easy to please

Me

((:

Minutes later, he’s bombarded with pictures of different animals and memes that make him laugh. He quickly shuts up when he feels a set of eyes on him, and starts typing on his keyboard to make himself look busy.

He feels a little better, though, and not for the first time of his life, he feels grateful for his best friend.

 

 

 

—

 

 

 

Minghao looks up from his computer to his coworker standing behind the desk. The man looks a little concerned, with his eyebrows knit and mouth twisting.

“Are you gonna be okay if I leave you?” Mr Park - _no,_ Minghao corrects himself, _he wants me to call him Sungjin_ \- asks.

Minghao smiles brightly at him, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over him. “Of course! You go home and rest. I’ll just finish up this page I’m working on…”

Sungjin doesn’t look entirely convinced, but after a moment of an unwavering smile, he gives up. He pats Minghao on his shoulder and tells him to lock up the department door after himself.

“Sure,” Minghao tells him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re a good kid,” Sungjin says and smiles before taking his leave.

Minghao stares at the computer screen when the door shuts behind him, the smile slowly falling off his mouth. He looks at the clock. Half past 10. He can stay for another hour.

He’s tired, and his hand feel heavy when he lifts it to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He’s tired, but then, he thinks of his parents, their frowning faces and heads shaking, and he continues on with his work.

He’s tired, but, in Sungjin’s words, _he’s a good kid._

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu calls her.

Jimin, that is. He doesn’t have that many people that wants to go out with him to confuse her with someone else.

It was scary. Not actually scary, since he’s used to talking to people and feels comfortable doing it, but still. Jimin is someone so cool, so breezy, that he feels the need to be as cool and breezy himself.

Of course, that doesn’t work. Jimin probably heard it, and Mingyu _definitely_ heard it. The way he tried to be so cool, so calm. That isn’t just him. Jimin laughed though, so he thinks it’s a good sign.

Anyways, he’s going on a date with her. Technically not a date, since neither spoke the word, but Mingyu is pretty sure that they were flirting on the phone earlier, so he counts it as a date. They’re meeting at a museum that she likes, one with art and paintings and sculptures, things that Mingyu is usually afraid he will break or destroy.

He’s going on a date with _Choi Jimin_.

 

 

—

 

 

 

“I’m going on a date with Jimin!” Mingyu announces excitedly, and Seokmin would find it cute if it hadn’t pierced his ears the way it did.

“I know,” Seokmin says, turning a page of his book. “This may be the fifteenth time you’ve mentioned it.”

Mingyu stops fussing with the cuffs of his sleeve, stopping just a moment to stare at him. Seokmin doesn’t look back to check if he really does, since he’s at an exciting part in the book, but something tells him he doesn’t need to. Knowing a person almost all your life has a habit of making you pick up on _their_ habits. “Really?”

Seokmin feels himself grinning. “Yes, you goof.”

He can hear the tiny smile in Mingyu’s voice as he says, “Oh…”

Mingyu continues with his dressing, judging by the sound, and Seokmin is totally engrossed in the novel once again.

“Oh God, what should I wear? Is this really appropriate for a date? Should I be more casual?”

Seokmin can’t help but hear his mumbling, and he decides to help his friend out to avoid any distress. He sits up on the bed, turning to Mingyu. He watches how Mingyu look at himself in the mirror on his closet with a frown, inspecting himself from every angle.

“Mingyu,” Seokmin says, and Mingyu turns to him.

“Hm?”

“It’s good,” he tells him. “It’s not too casual and not too strict. You don’t have to worry any more.”

Mingyu’s face ease up a little, a hopeful look breaking out. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he says, nodding seriously. “Besides, if she only likes you for your clothes, maybe that’s not a good sign.”

Mingyu tilts his head, nodding after a moment. “True.”

“Now, get going. Aren’t you supposed to be early?”

Mingyu’s face clears up from the previous thoughtfulness, and he nods when he looks at the clock on the wall.

He grabs his coat - nothing a coat can do to shield him from the chilly weather at night - and is out the door before Seokmin can say _good luck_ or _bye_.

He shakes his head, just a bit fond, before laying down on his bed again. That Kim Mingyu. Always the same.

He gets a text some minutes later, and he is a little surprised to see Mingyu’s name.

Mingyu

I’m sorry!! I forgot to say goodbye!

Goodbye

Me

mingyu mingyu mingyu…

what should i do about you?

have fun, yeah?

Mingyu

will do!

He sends an emoji doing salute and Seokmin lazily smiles at his phone before going back to his reading.

 

 

 

—

 

 

“Mingyu!”

He hears a voice from behind, so he slows down his pace to look with curiosity over his shoulder. There, in the middle of the pavement, stands a girl with green hair and glasses.

“Jimin-ssi!” He responds, raising his hand to wave. She speeds up with him easily and signals for them to keep walking.

“I saw you only now,” Jimin explains. “I guess I was wrapped up in my own thoughts until now.”

Actually, Mingyu _had_ wondered why she hadn’t called out to him after walking a bit behind him for almost half the distance to the art exhibition.

“It’s okay,” Mingyu says, and really, it is. He smiles. “You’re here now.”

“I sure am,” she says, and it sounds a little gentler than usually.

He feels oddly shy, walking under the dimly lit street lights and a low hanging moon with Jimin. He feels the a breeze sweep over them, and even though his mind is racing with something interesting or funny or preferably both, he feels … Content, in a way. He doesn’t know Jimin, not yet, but he feels like he wants to.

They’re quiet and he really feels like he should say something now, anything, and the feeling grows steadier, from inside the small corner of his stomach to spread like a wildfire through his entire body. He’s desperate, even though Jimin seems cool with walking quietly beside him, so he blurts out the first thing he comes up with.

“You’re there often, then? At the dorms?”

Jimin looks at him, the corner of her pale lips tugging upwards. “I live there.”

Mingyu feels blood rushing to his neck and he damns himself yet again. Jimin only laughs.

“You’re funny,” she says, still laughing. Mingyu starts to smile a little as well, admitting that he _is_ a little funny, in some cases at least.

Luckily, Jimin saves him from saying more embarrassing stuff by talking about why she moved in there; her parents live in the countryside and she didn’t want an entire apartment by herself.

“Do you have a roommate?” Mingyu asks, finding himself indulged.

“Yes,” she nods. “Mihee. She’s nice, but she fucking _loves_ watching videos at the middle of the night, the highest volume up.”

Mingyu laughs. “That _does_ sound like a fucking-related matter.”

“What about you?” She says, eyes flickering from the water under the bridge they’re crossing to his face.

“I want to experience college life full out,” Mingyu says. “I live with my friend Seokmin. He’s great, no irritating habits involved.”

“That’s a relief,” Jimin agrees, and then hums, pointing ahead of them. “We’re almost there.”

"Great,” Mingyu says, feeling a mix of relief and regret. He wants to walk with her longer, to talk casually under the pretty sky, but at the same time, he feels relieved to look at art and talk about it instead of trying to find topics to talk about.

They pay their tickets - Mingyu insists that he pays her too but she’s a stubborn one, not letting him - and they walk into the art exhibition.

There’s paintings hanging on grey walls, padded benches in front of the really big canvas paintings and people standing in clusters, talking lowly among themselves and admiring the art. Mingyu and Jimin walk to a contemporary piece of art, with what’s supposed to be two people blended together. Or…? It’s hard to tell what is really going on in the picture, so Mingyu stares at it trying to make sense.

Jimin notices his deep furrowed eyebrows and says in a low voice, making her voice sound deeper, “I have no clue what that is either.”

Mingyu lets out a chuckle, mostly out of relief. He’s happy it’s not just him who doesn’t get the meaning of the painting.

They move on, and Mingyu sees so many kinds of different art styles and stories and emotions that his mind feels positively buzzing with it all once they reach a small and warm cafeteria. Jimin raises an eyebrow in question, and Mingyu gets her.

“Sure.”

Mingyu orders the strawberry cake with a black coffee, and Jimin, to his surprise, orders an even sweeter cake and hot chocolate.

“What?” She gives him a look once they’ve settled down at one of the tables, one in the middle of the room. He puts his dessert on the table and shrugs his coat off.

“Nothing,” he says, but her _don’t-give-me-nothing_ makes him smile. “It’s just… I didn’t expect you to be a person to order the sweetest thing on the menu.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks, and Mingyu feels his heart jump in his chest. He looks at her with a expression he would describe as horrified.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” she says, cutting him off. She takes a sip of her chocolate and smiles behind the rim of the mug. “I’m just joking with you.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says, letting himself relax into the seat.

“I’m sorry,” she smiles even harder, seeing his relief. “It was a stupid joke.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mingyu says, even though he still feels the remnants of his sudden panic.

“I don’t look like someone who would order something sweet?” Jimin switches the subject, leaning forward on the table with both elbows on the surface.

“I don’t know,” Mingyu shrugs, and then admits, “You kinda look like someone who would ask for the cafe’s most blackest coffee and down it in one shot.”

This is apparently funny, because Jimin starts laughing. She has this way of laughing. Loud and boisterous and unapologetic. Mingyu thinks he likes it.

 

 

 

—

 

 

“Mingyu? Mingyu?

What, darling? What do you mean?

…

Oh, really?

Your father just informed me that I came direct to voicemail, and I do not know why; why don’t you have your phone on, Mingyu-yah? Don’t make me worry about you too!

Your father’s been eating poorly, you see, so I have to nag on him to even eat a little. You’re eating well, right, Gyu-yah? Are you taking care of your health? It’s beginning to get chillier, so make sure to dress warmly!

I’ve heard from Seokmin-ah, yes, dear Seokmin instead of you - please call us more often - that everything at work is going well. I’m so proud of you my boy! You make us proud everyday, don’t forget that.

He also mentioned another thing… That he didn’t really talk about because he told me it was your business, but he hinted about a girl… Who is this we haven’t heard anything about? What’s her name, age and major?

… Okay, forget my old mother’s instinct, just answer me this; do you like her?

Oh, right, you’re not even on the phone. Anyways, I will have to hang up on this voicemail now, since your father and I will have dinner now. Take care Mingyu-yah! Love you!”

 

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu feels great.

Just on this September morning, he gets out of bed and feels great. Inside out, and everywhere. He yawns and dresses faster than usual, then scrubbing his teeth with extra care. He’s up before Seokmin is, so he decides to wake him up with his favorite song as an alarm. He puts on the song and Seokmin groans.

“What time is it?” He asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Half past seven!” Mingyu almost sing-songs, putting on his shoes. “I’m gonna get going now, it’s another morning meeting in half an hour.”

Seokmin only murmurs, and MIngyu smiles at the bed hair sticking up behind the covers. “Take care, okay? I’ll be back about five p.m.”

“You too,” Seokmin mumbles, and in only seconds Mingyu hears a soft snoring sound. He shakes his head and walks to his bus stop.

It’s still relatively early, so moderately many people stand beside him waiting for the bus. He’s relieved when he sees the bus coming towards them, almost shivering with cold. He really should’ve brought a thicker coat with him today. Oh well. It’s still a beautiful day, he thinks.

As he sits on the bus he thinks about how nice the day will really be; first, work. Fun, except for a certain Xu Minghao. He’s just going to ignore him, like always. Then, studying. Not as fun as the former, but it’s okay since he really doesn’t want to fall behind on anything. Later, pizza night with Seokmin. When pizza and bad movies marathons are involved in a situation, Mingyu can’t stay away.

He looks out on the city, that’s actually pretty nice, and hums all the way from the bus stop to the massive entrance of the magazine. He enters and soon is at the right floor, shrugging off his coat in his office before walking to the big meeting room.

Majority of the people are there, but the mood of the room is still light and there’s lots of talking going on. Mingyu takes the seat he usually claims, catching Mrs Kang’s gaze from across the room on the way, and he smiles politely. Mrs Kang seems somewhat pleased by his early appearance, so she nods at him before turning away to someone on his side.

Mingyu is bored, and it’s still some time before the meeting begins, so he chats with a woman from his department that usually smiles kindly at him, and they’re on the topic of the trouble with a big company never being satisfied with the ads they produce for them when the chairman - Mr Lee, Seokmin’s father that is an unusual sight at the morning meetings - clears his throat. The room falls silent and Mr Lee starts with checking in with the journalist how far they’ve gone.

They’re about five minutes into the meeting when the door swings open and the room once again falls silent to see what the sound is. Minghao is suddenly in the room, wearing the ugliest hat Mingyu has ever seen on a human being, bowing and murmuring a low _sorry_ to the magazine’s worker before taking his place - unfortunately, besides Mingyu. As always.

Sigh.

Mingyu won’t look at him, just out of moral reasons/stoic/pride - and it’s not like Minghao would ever look at him either, so it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Mr Lee switches his attention once he’s done with checking up on the different departments to Seoul Fashion Week, that’s approaching in less than one month. The crew’s all been on edge for this, Mingyu had noticed, even though it was plenty of time left. Mingyu did understand it though; it was a lot of pages to get done, even more than usual because of the insert, more than thirty pages purely about the Fashion Week and fall fashion.

“Since we have a lot left to do, and too little time, I thought this would be a wonderful time to use our interns to their full potential,” Mr Lee says, smiling, and at first, Mingyu doesn’t realise he’s talking about him. Mr Lee turns his gaze to Mingyu. “We have done these kinds of tasks before, you see, with the interns contributing to the magazine with things other than the usual tasks you’re given.”

Mingyu is aware of everyone looking at him, but he manages to keep his gaze on Mr Lee.

“You’re gonna make an entire insert with articles about hot topics, great pictures and _your_ inputs and thoughts about the Fashion Week!” Mr Lee announced happily.

Mingyu’s jaw drops.

He hears hard swallowing beside him.

“Wh-What do you mean?” Mingyu dares to ask, looking around in the room to see several people smiling kindly at him.

“Oh, don’t worry, Mr Kim, it won’t be a big insert; maybe fifteen pages or so. I’m thinking that you’re going to write about the Fashion Week as a whole, but also more detailed. Like, what have the different companies and chains come up this time, and fashion tips for fall. Oh, and I planned for you to both write and use a lot of pictures. Rather more pictures than text. This way, both of your skills will come in hand - graphic design and editorial. Great, right?”

Mr Lee looks moderately happy, and Mingyu doesn’t ruin that with stupid questions. But he has to. “Uhm, Mr Lee, I’m not that good at writing…”

Mr Lee raises an eyebrow at him across the smooth, gray table. “I’m sure you and Mr Xu will figure it out.”

Mingyu’s stomach drops. Oh God. _Oh no._

He looks to his right, and there Minghao sits frozen, like an ice sculpture. He meets his gaze and Mingyu can see dread and fear in them. They probably match his own. Mingyu turns turns his gaze to the table again.

He’s going to do a fifteen paged insert. With fucking Xu Minghao.

This is not going to be fun.


	2. what can i do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu is exasperated, and Minghao is just as infuriating as ever.

Mingyu and Minghao are standing in the hallway, in the middle of the big group of people exiting the meeting room. They’re totally silent, ignoring each other completely; not even glancing at each other, and making sure they have a lot of space between their arms in case some accidental brushes could happen. At least, that’s what Mingyu is thinking. He has no idea what’s going on Minghao’s head.

They’re soon out of the suffocating room and Mingyu exhales deeply. He still feels a little dazed, not quite being able to think properly. He looks to his side, expecting to see Minghao standing there with a sullen expression, but he’s gone. Mingyu spends one moment searching through the crowd for him, and he easily spots him by Mr Park, his mentor. Minghao’s expression is one full of exasperation and anger, and Mingyu watches as Mr Park puts a hand on his shoulder. He walks closer to hear the words exchanged.

“I-I can’t work with him, Sungjin!” Minghao insists. “I just can’t! He’s so childish, and not at all cooperative!”

Mingyu huffs. _He’s_ the childish one?

“Minghao,” Mr Park says, looking determinedly at him. “You just have to, if you want to keep your internship. I’m sorry, but that’s what’s expected of you. You won’t leave a good impression here if _you’re_ not cooperative.”

The words seem to take effect, because Minghao slumps together like all the fire in him extinguish in one second.

He nods, and even without seeing his face, Mingyu knows it’s done sullenly. Minghao follows Mr Park as they walk toward the editorial’s room and Mingyu turns not to get caught. He would not be able to deal with Minghao’s nasty look right now.

Luckily, the two of them don't have to interact the rest of the day. Mingyu follows the ads team to their desk to continue working on their stuff, and he eats with the team and talks to a guy named Younghyun who’s a little older than him but really nice and not at all condescending or stuck up, like some in the team actually kind of are.

He sees Minghao walking by in the cafeteria as he’s talking with Younghyun, and he momentarily forgets about Younghyun as he watches Minghao sit down next to a table a little farther down, next to the people from his department.

He wants it to stay like this; Minghao and Mingyu, never speaking, always ignoring each other. Because that’s easy, even if it’s not ideal, and it doesn’t make Mingyu’s blood boil (just a little). He wants them to stay out of each other's ways, never crossing paths unless it’s _absolutely_ necessary. He doesn’t want to be constantly near Minghao, exposed to his cruel comments and demeaning attitude. He’s just going to end up hurt, one way or another.

But that’s how it’s going to be now. The two of them. Together.

Mingyu swallows down the juice hard, focusing yet again on Younghyun. Younghyun, who’s funny and sweet and doesn’t try to belittle Mingyu every chance he gets. Mingyu thinks, if he for now focuses on other things, other people, he’s going to make it. He’s going to focus on the insert and completely blur out Minghao if possible, just making sure that the insert gets so _good_ Mr Lee and Mrs Kang and all the others wishes they could hire him full time in the future.

Minghao’s going to be just a blurry figure while Mingyu works on making the best insert the magazine has ever seen. He loves graphic design and he won’t let a rude, arrogant boy ruin it. He’s going to make it amazing. He just has to.

 

 

—

 

 

Seokmin and Mingyu are in their dorm, laying on Seokmin’s bed to watch movies on his laptop with pizza, and he notices that something’s wrong.

Of course he notices. He’s been Mingyu’s friend longer than he can count on his two hands. He can read Mingyu like an open book, and right now, he’s acting out his usual “I’m angry or sullen for something but I need time to think and process this before speaking to anyone”. He’s quiet, eating his pizza a little too slow than he usually does (read: devouring the pizza whole) and doesn’t laugh on the scenes Seokmin _knows_ he finds funny.

“What’s up?” Seokmin asks, watching as Mingyu continues staring at the screen with hazy kind of eyes. He waves a hand lightly in front of him, and that wakes him up from his daze.

“What?”

“What’s up?” Seokmin repeats, smiling down at him. The bed’s small, not fit for two tall men, and they’re both kinda falling out of it, but it’s fine for Seokmin. He’s used to sharing his bed with Mingyu like this, so he doesn’t hate the crampedness anymore.

“Oh,” Mingyu says, biting his lip. “I just…” He sighs, and finally says. “I’m gonna make an insert with Minghao.”

“What?” Seokmin sits up in bed. “Are you serious?”

“I know,” Mingyu covers his face with his hands. “It’s the worst.”

“No, it’s not!” Seokmin exclaims, prying his hands off of his face. “It’s amazing! You’re gonna make an insert that’s will be published at a well known, popular fashion magazine. That’s amazing!”

“I’m gonna have to do it with _Minghao_ ”, Mingyu sulks.

“True,” Seokmin says, tilting his head. His smile grows wider. “But you’re going to make _an insert, Mingyu!_ ”

Mingyu brightens a little at that, allowing a tiny smile. “I will! It will be tough, since it’s supposed to be ten pages and I have no clue as how to write articles, but I guess I have to figure it out.”

Seokmin raises his hand for a high-five, and when Mingyu returns it, his smile is wider. “I really want to do well,” he says.

“And you’re gonna,” Seokmin says, not letting Mingyu believe otherwise. Because he is going to do well. He’s creative and has a lot of ideas, so Seokmin’s sure he’s going to pull it through in the end.

Seokmin falls back on the bed. “That’s so cool, Gyu-yah. You’re gonna technically be a professional journalist, ads-maker and fashion expert.”

It makes Mingyu laugh. “Calm down your horses.”

“I’m just happy for you,” Seokmin says, and Mingyu clings onto his arm.

“Thank you. I am, too,” Mingyu says against Seokmin’s arm, the words coming out muffled.

Seokmin hears a _pling!_ and he angles his body slightly to reach down and grab his phone from the ground. When he sees the number, he turns his phone away from Mingyu so he doesn’t accidentally catch a peek.

Seokmin reads the text, frowning, then deciding to turn it off and put it back on its original position on the floor.

He turns his gaze to the screen again and the two friends continue their movie watching. Just like always. Like they’re ten and they watch a movie under the blankets in Seokmin’s room, when it’s past their bedtime by far. It’s almost like ten years have done nothing to them. Seokmin likes it that way.

 

 

—

 

 

“You can work either in the ads department, or the editorial department, but you can’t work all the time when you’re in the office. Your different teams will need help from you, so you might have to bring it home to work further,” Mr Park says, then, seeing their faces, ads. “Only if it’s necessary, of course.”

They’re standing in the editorial department, watching Mr Park gesturing to the little desk that’s Minghao’s, and Mingyu feels extremely uncomfortable.

He nods, though, and thanks Mr Park as he smiles and wishes them good luck before returning to his own desk further down in the room. The room is silent, the five or so people working under silence on the computer. Mingyu looks at the big, big window faced towards the beautiful city beneath. It’s a long window; almost being as long and tall as the actual wall, and you can see so far it amazes Mingyu. They do not have a cool, big window like this in the ads department. He feels a tug of jealousy in his chest, because _Minghao_ works here everyday. He also really wishes the boss, Mr Lee, would install windows in their room too.

“We sit here,” Minghao’s voice is curt, firm, final. It makes Mingyu’s skin prickle but he takes a small breath, reminding himself that that’s just who he is. Minghao is already sitting at the desk, and Mingyu follows. He sits besides him and tries not to lean too close.

“So, what should we begin with?” Mingyu says, expecting a sharp remark back.

“Think with that small brain of yours, okay?” Minghao snaps, confirming Mingyu’s inner thoughts. Minghao’s sitting in front of the computer, staring at the black screen with a blank face. Mingyu thinks he really has to do everything in this project. Of course.

“Um, we can start with the cover?” Mingyu says, and he swears, it’s not supposed to come out as a question.

Minghao flashes stabbing-hole-through-paper eyes at him. “How are we gonna start with the cover if we haven’t even written the first article?” His voice is so, so cold and Mingyu feels something in his chest sink.

“Oh right,” he says, lowering his voice. “I forgot.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Then, Minghao speaks, with a less cold voice.

“It’s best if we start planning the content first, then we can move on to actually writing articles and taking pictures,” Minghao says slowly, as if he’s talking to a child.

Mingyu rolls his eyes and grabs hold of the computer mouse. Minghao protests loudly, but Mingyu shushes him, gesturing to the rest of their colleagues that need some peace and quiet. Minghao shuts up at that, but he eyes Mingyu suspiciously as he opens the information document that’s stored in the magazine’s shared hard drive. He opens the file and feels a breath of relief escape him. There, on the white document, is written some instructions and contents listed. Minghao’s eyebrows raises a little.

“Didn’t you listen at the end?” Mingyu says, more of a snark than tease.

Minghao doesn’t answer him, he just takes the mouse from him and reads on the document.

“We will attend the Fashion Week, so we’re gonna write a lot about that. The magazine will be printed two days after the ending ceremony, so we have to finish writing and putting together the insert by then. Here, in case you can’t read, Mr Lee recommends us some topics to write about; the feeling of the Fashion Week, the arrangement, a lot of topics about the clothes and companies - of course - and then, an overall summary of the Fashion Week.”

Minghao takes a little break in talking, his eyes continuing to read the text on the screen. “Since we’re in college and have that “youthful” feeling, he wants us to include some of our personal thoughts on the experience as well on a page.”

“Great,” Mingyu mutters, but in fact, he’s excited. He loves graphic design, he really does; he loves the carefulness that goes into the work, he loves the feeling of a tired and stiff body after some hours in a chair marking he’s done a good job, and most of all, he loves the outcome. He loves looking at posters he has created, because it is _his_ creation and it’s _he_ that has made it look that way. It’s all his work.

It’s amazing, thrilling and most important of all, it makes Mingyu happy.

Minghao says what they are going to start with the upcoming fall fashion trends, since it’s the easiest to begin with, and Mingyu really doesn’t appreciate the patronising tone he’s using. He’s trying to ignore it though, for the sake of peace, and they work silently on two different computers to search information and put together a text. Mingyu says he’ll write about coats and hoodies, while Minghao takes the trousers and shoes. They create a shared document to put together their texts, and they work without talking for almost two hours.

Then, when the clock strikes one o’clock, Mr Park tells them kindly to put away their stuff if they want to eat in the cafeteria. Both of them nod eagerly at him, and Mingyu starts packing down his laptop in his fashionable black bag, feeling his entire body relax as he gleefully celebrates that he’s going to be with Mrs Kang the rest of the day when Minghao says something.

“What?” Mingyu asks, swirling around to see Minghao staring unimpressively at him. “What?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Minghao tells him. “We’re going to work together for the rest of the day.”

“...What?” Mingyu says, feeling a little stunned. “Didn’t Mr Park say we weren’t going to work all day all the time?”

Minghao rolls his eyes and adjusts the thick, white-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Mingyu is 90% sure that they are fake glasses, just for fashion. He’s been using them a lot more lately. For some reason, it gets on Mingyu’s nerves, even though he finds fashion glasses cool on other people. He himself doesn’t wear it, because he doesn’t like how it feels against his face, but he admires people - like Younghyun - who rocks it.

“ _Yes_ , but this is the first time we’re working on this project, so he allowed us some extra time. Didn’t _you_ listen at the end?” Minghao smirks, and with that comment, leaves the room promptly. Mingyu is left with steam coming out from his ears and clenched fists by his side.

_Breathe. In. Out. In, out. Just like that. In, out._

The rest of the day after lunch passes by slowly. It’s like the universe wants to punish Mingyu by moving the minute shower slowly, slowly at another number. It feels like it’s going by a snail’s pace, and even though Mingyu finishes the fall fashion text, he feels exhausted and not at all excited when he finally leaves the office at the end of the day.

It’s raining, _of fucking course_ , and Mingyu gets cold on his way home. He gets to the door, unlocks it and falls down on the bed face first without even bothering to greet his roommate.

The last thing he hears is _Rough day at work, huh?_ before passing out in a deep, deep sleep.

 

 

—

 

 

The next time they work together on the insert is two days later. It’s cold outside, so Mingyu wears a black turtleneck and a thick, gray woolen coat over. It leads to some unexpected discussion.

“What is _that_?” Minghao wrinkles his nose as Mingyu takes off his coat to hang it over the chair.

“ _This_?” Mingyu repeats, looking down on himself. “What’s wrong with this?”

Minghao looks him up and down, and his nose scrunches even more. “It doesn’t fit.”

“Are you kidding me,” Mingyu deadpans, getting enough of this already. “It’s a black turtleneck with black trousers. How can it not fit?”

“It just doesn’t,” the other decides and goes back to looking at the computer screen. Mingyu clenches his jaw, and turns around to find Mr Park at his usual spot.

“Mr Park!” He calls out over the room, and thankfully, most people are on coffee break. Mr Park looks up from his work with a blank face and Mingyu beckons him over.

“Sungjin,” Mr Park insists as he makes his way to them. “What is it, Mingyu?”

“What do you think of my outfit?” He asks, and he can see from the corner of his eyes Minghao glancing up. Mr Park is a fashionable man, - like everyone else working at the magazine - often dressed in flannel or light jeans jackets that make him look younger than he is. Mingu trusts Mr Park.

Mr Park takes a moment to look at it. “I think it’s great. Smart, casual, and fitting for the weather.”

Mingyu can’t resist the smirk creeping up on his face. “So you wouldn’t say that the trousers don't fit with the turtleneck?”

“No,” Mr Park shakes his head, looking at Minghao now. “Was it just that?”

Minghao nods tightly after a moment. Mr Park smiles. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll go back to work.”

“Thank you, Mr Pa- Sungjin!” Mingyu calls after him, and Mr Park waves back with a smile.

Mingyu swivels around, full of new energy. He directs an extra smug smirk at Minghao, who keeps his gaze on the screen.

“Hah! You’re wrong,” Mingyu exclaims, almost singing at the end. Minghao looks up at him with a solemn expression and doesn’t say anything. Mingyu feels like he’s won, for the first time ever. The feeling makes him feel more eager to work and he works with newfound spirit. Maybe he should win over Minghao more often. Make _him_ feel like the odd one.

The day still goes slow, and the stiff tension between the two really doesn’t improve the situation. They have finished some stuff by lunch and Mingyu feels like this time was a little more tolerable than the last, but not by much. The weird, uncomfortable silence is still between them. It’s not like Mingyu wants to change it or anything, he doesn’t want more than silence with Minghao, but it makes working a little harder.

They’re just about to go to the cafeteria when Hyewon - she doesn’t like being called by her last name - asks them for a favor. They both creep closer to the woman to hear her out.

“Can you two be absolute _darlings_ and pick a salad from this place I _adore_?” She asks, batting her eyelashes. It feels kind of weird, since she’s surely older than forty, and as she sees their hesitant faces, she adds. “You can get something too if you want to. It’s on me.”

At this exact moment, Mingyu’s stomach growls rather loudly. He closes his eyes, cursing his stomach’s timing before opening to a smiling Hyewon and snorting Minghao. The food he can buy in the cafeteria is really good, but he does want to be kind and make a good impression on the people here. They’re all high-profile, influential people that he knows isn’t good to have on his bad side. So he nods, hoping to look eager to do it.

Hyewon writes something on a paper and holds it into the air, waiting for Mingyu to take it. He doesn’t have a chance before Minghao’s slender fingers already have a hold of the paper. He looks with stabbing eyes at Minghao, who is nodding politely to his senior before starting to walk out of the room. Mingyu follows hurriedly, bidding goodbye to Hyewon, and manages to catch up with Minghao before he closes the elevator door on him.

Minghao’s gaze on him is dark and intense as Mingyu steps into the elevator, and he takes a step back when he meets his gaze. “Are you coming too?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes. “She was talking about _both_ of us, you know.”

“I was hoping you’d do the lazy option and stay in the cafeteria,” Minghao tells him, now looking at himself in the mirror with deeply furrowed brows.

“And let you claim all the credit and be the good one? No way,” Mingyu huffs out.

The ride down to the first floor is a quiet one, and even though he elevator ride is at most half a minute, it feels like time drags on extra slowly just for this occasion. It’s always like this, Mingyu realises. That time pass so slowly when he’s with Minghao. It’s not a good feeling. It’s like when you’re running and you’re out of breath and wants to stop but you can’t, so you keep on running and at first, it’s okay. The longer it gets though, the more tiring it becomes. At one point, you just want to throw your hands in the air and scream. It becomes unbearable.

The elevator door opens and Minghao strides past Mingyu. Mingyu follows behind him and they go out of the main entrance and a breath of cold air sweeps around them.

Mingyu is cold, and he regrets not grabbing his coat. He won’t admit this too Minghao though, no way. He would probably say something snarky about his looks or that he hopes he becomes sick so he can work on the project alone.

They walk towards the restaurant, and Mingyu is surprised that Minghao leads the way like he knows where it’s located. Then he sees a phone and a map pulled on it over Minghao’s shoulder. He snorts and Minghao looks back at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Mingyu says innocently. He could make a comment about that, but he’s cold and would rather not get into a fight with him at this exact moment.

After fifteen minute or so, they’re standing in front of a small shop. Mingyu doesn’t feel the tip of his nose anymore, so he hurries inside, followed by Minghao. The inside of the shop is really what Mingyu imagined a healthy restaurant would have; wooden floor, tables and chairs. Green decorations everywhere, a salad bar in the corner and a stack of cabbageheads prettily placed next to the water and the glasses. Mingyu doesn’t know who came up wit cabbageheads, but it’s a really funny sight. He sees Minghao smiling tinily at the cabbageheads from the corner of his eyes. Maybe he finds it funny too?

They walk up to the counter to ask for a salad reserved to Kwon Hyewon and the shop assistant gives it to Mingyu with a bright smile. The assistant, a girl around his age, smiles even brighter at this, and Mingyu is just about to pay when Minghao clears his throat.

“We could choose whatever we wanted, right?” He says, and looks in the counter at the sandwiches, smoothies and healthy snacks. Mingyu totally forgot, and his stomach is really demanding some food now, so he picks out a sandwich and a orange smoothie. Minghao takes longer to decide, and Mingyu starts to get impatient. The restaurant is warm and full of people, so he can’t complain being here, but he doesn’t think the weather outside is going to get warmer.

“Hurry up,” he says quietly to Minghao, because he can feel the shop assistant still looking at them.

“Does it bother you?” Minghao says, and then smiles. Mingyu is in full shock. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a smile directed at him ever since they started being interns. _That_ night, however, he was the receiver of many smiles - soft, happy, excited. They’re blurry in his head, but he remembers they were all beautiful smiles.

Okay, Mingyu should _really_ stop thinking about this. It feels weird, _so goddamn weird_ , since Minghao never spoke a single word about it and instead hates him now. It’s so fucking weird and it makes Mingyu’s skin crawl, so he avoids thinking about it. He puts all the amazing-Minghao memories into a little box and seals it carefully, then shoving it the farthest away in his brain that he is able. Good. No more thoughts of that.

Now, Mingyu notices it’s not a nice smile. It’s a smile that’s mean and supposed to get on his nerves. Just for that simple reason, he doesn’t let it get on his nerves.

Minghao finally chooses an avocado sandwich with organic, healthy corn chips to go. Mingyu pays with Hyewon’s card, which she so uncarefully trusted with basically a stranger, and he smiles and waves goodbye to the shop assistant.

They’re out the door again and to his utter surprise, Minghao speaks. “That shop assistant was fucking obsessed by you.”

Mingyu looks down at him with raised eyebrows, not really believing him. _He_ didn’t get that impression. Minghao meets his gaze. “People are crazy nowadays.”

It kind of stings, because he insinuates no one could ever be interested in Mingyu, and Mingyu is just on the edge of saying something dumb back. Something really, really dumb. Something like _Well, you were interested, weren’t you?_ He holds his tongue, though, and doesn’t bother replying. He doesn’t want to talk to Minghao about anything, any less whatever _this_ is.

They don't speak on the entire way back, and Mingyu hates silence like this, but he knows it’s necessary with Minghao. Silence, or snapping and sharp words.

They’re almost at the magazine again when Minghao speaks again, surprising Mingyu for a second time. “You should have brought a coat. I can’t have you sick. We have too little time for that.”

“I won’t get sick,” Mingyu responds. “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head over it.”

Minghao sends daggers at him and Mingyu feels another smug feeling coming upon him. Not quite a win, no MINGYU 2 - MINGHAO 4, but it’s something.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu’s just in the dorm hall when he hears a _pling!_. He stops in his track, unlocking his phone to see the message. It’s from Jimin. He feels something in him warming up.

Jimin

Hey, wanna go on a walk?

It’s casual and cool but it makes Mingyu smile. He’s tired, sure, but he wants to talk to Jimin. They haven’t talked in person, only in text, since that art exhibition day, almost a week ago. It feels like too long.

He writes back immediately.

Me

Sure!!

I’m just gonna drop of my bag, I’ll come and get you after?

She writes back just as fast.

 

Jimin

No need

I’m outside your dorm (:

 

The smiley makes Mingyu laugh, and when he rounds a corner, he sees her standing in front of their door, leaning against the wall with her eyes on the clock on the wall opposite her.

He watches her, just for a moment, and he is again stunned. Her green hair is hanging freely today, and she has another pair of glasses this time. It’s still the same shape, what Mingyu believes is called cat eyes, but they’re a dark shade pink instead of green. Her dark eyes are fixed on the clock, and Mingyu realises that he maybe should walk toward her instead of staring.

He does, and Jimin turns his gaze to him. She smiles. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mingyu repeats, a smile on his face too. “I’m just gonna put my bag inside, then we can go.”

“Okay,” she nods and lets him past her to walk into his room. Mingyu drops his bag right at the door, but then he notices Seokmin by his desk.

“Hey Seokmin, I’m just going on a walk with Jimin,” he says. Seokmin turns to him, like he didn’t hear him before, and smiles.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll make ramen when you get home, right? I’m beginning to get hungry.”

“Of course,” he says, and then. “Bye, Seok.”

“Have fun!” Seokmin shuts loudly, and Mingyu’s face colors. He closes the door and turns to Jimin with a pained expression.

“Let’s go,” he says and she laughs.

They choose to walk a different route this time, one that would lead them to the popular shopping centrum. It’s warm today, so warm they only need thin coats to keep the warmth. It’s the time of the year when almost all of the leaves has fallen off, but there’s some red and orange ones left. Mingyu doesn’t want the last leaves to fall just yet. He loves the color. It reminds him of autumns back home as a child, autumns filled with apples and playing outside with his sister and hot tea.

They’re walking side by side, arms almost, almost touching, and when Jimin asks why he’s so tired, Mingyu can’t hold it in any longer.

“I’ve got this colleague that’s _so fucking_ annoying, he always wants to destroy me and as soon as today, he said he was surprised if anyone would ever be interested in me,” he says, voice rising. He doesn’t tell her about the hook up. That is very, very unnecessary information.

“Okay, woah, that’s actually really rude,” she says, raising an eyebrow, and Mingyu feels his mouth curve into a smile. Seokmin often tries to make things positive when they’re talking about him, like saying “I’m sure this is some deep, dark problem rooted inside himself, it probably isn’t your fault” and “I’m sure he’s gonna come around!” Mingyu loves Seokmin, he really does, but he can’t deal with this silver-lining bullshit when it’s about Minghao. There is no silver-lining.

“I know, right!” He says, loudly, and the birds sitting on an electric table all take off at the sound. Jimin doesn’t even try to hide her chuckle, and Mingyu whines.

“Jimin-noona!” He pouts, and then stops, because he realises he just used informal honorific. He looks at her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, since she continues to walk without looking at him weirdly.

“I’m sorry, Mingyu-yah,” she says, and apparently, she _really_ doesn’t mind the casual honorific. “That he’s so annoying. That must be hard, since you have to see him often.”

“It is,” he says quietly. “And now I even have to do an insert with him, too.”

She suddenly looks up at him. “What?”

“We’re gonna do an insert together for our magazine,” Mingyu says, feeling a headache coming just at those words. _Together_ just feels wrong.

“But that’s great!” Jimin insists, and Mingyu nods, a little numbly.

“It’s great. It’s a great opportunity that could open a lot of doors,” Mingyu says, not entirely excited. Jimin narrows her eyes at him.

“But…?”

Mingyu rubs his neck, feeling something crawl in his skin. “It’s just so hard. To work with him.”

“And that’s the tea,” Jimin says, totally serious, and it makes Mingyu laugh. He feels a little better for a moment, where it’s just him and Jimin, who looks up at him with smiling eyes.

“That’s the tea,” Mingyu agrees, and feels something settle in his chest. _That’s the tea._ Jimin’s totally right. It’s just the tea. There’s nothing he can do about it, and there’s nothing he _should_ do about it. It’s just this thing he needs to finish, he doesn’t need to give a damn about Minghao or let it affect him this much. He just needs to keep his cool and not care at all. He can do this. He’s cool. He’s _easy breezy motherfucker_ cool. Of course he is. And he’s not gonna let Minghao make him un-cool.

 

 

—

 

 

“What are you doing!” Mingyu shrieks, looking aghast at Minghao. They’re in the office, in Minghao’s usual workplace (Mingyu loves it. He would _never_ admit it to Minghao, but he loves working there. He absolutely adores the view of the city below.), when Minghao changes the font. Mingyu has never seen such an ugly font before. He didn’t even know they were allowed on any editing program anymore.

Minghao glances at him. “What?”

“That font! I hate it! How are you even an editorial intern!” Mingyu says, not exactly… Quietly. People in the editorial team look up at him, and he leans back in his chair, not sitting on the edge anymore. They go back to their work as Mingyu hears a quiet chuckle beside him.

He looks at Minghao and is just about to say something snarky when he’s stunned into silence. Minghao’s… Chuckling. His hand covering his mouth, his eyes squeezed together and his shoulders shaking. And it looks… Peaceful. He looks like he actually chuckles at something funny rather than at something pitiful.

Mingyu is totally unprepared for this. He’s totally missed reading the _What to do when your enemy is showing signs of being a human_ manual and he’s left sitting dumbfounded, looking at Minghao as if he’s an alien.

Minghao points a finger at him and swivels around in his chair a little, facing him a little bit. “Your face,” is the only explanation he gives. And then, some moments later, “Oh God, how I love pressing your buttons.”

Mingyu’s chest tightens and his face grows warm. “Cut it out,” he grumbles, turning away from Minghao. “And cut that goddamn font too, would you?”

Minghao doesn’t answer him, and Mingyu looks back at the screen to check if he changes it. He doesn’t. Minghao moves on to another section, copying and pasting the text Mingyu wrote the day before onto one of the spaces. If Mingyu were an animated character, he’s sure there would be steam coming out of his ears at this very moment.

“Cut. The. Damn. Font. Out,” he grits out, clenching his jaw tightly. Minghao sighs and turns around to look him down.

“This is a good font. Believe me. It fits the season and it’s good for the eye to have different fonts, or else they will become tired,” Minghao explains slowly, and Mingyu knows he’s being talked down to. As always.

“Slow your horses,” Mingyu says. “ _I’m_ the graphic design major, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Minghao shrugs, and then, his face twists into something mean. “But I’m an editorial intern. The position you wanted, right? It’s a shame that I got here first and that I have more experience from my other internship at another magazine, since you would get the position if you’d been just a little better than me and applied earlier. Ain't that right? You’re basically a nobody. So don’t go around doubting my skills.”

Mingyu’s chest is heaving, just by the amount energy it takes not to jump at Minghao. His entire chest clenches at the words, and his face gets even impossibly redder.

Minghao is right. Mingyu wanted to be an editorial intern, but by the time he had sent in his resume to the magazine he guesses Minghao had already done it, since Mr Lee apologised for not being able to have two editorial interns. Mingyu had told him that it was okay, and he had been offered an internship at the magazine’s ads team instead. He was happy there too, really. He had carried this thought in his head ever since he got rejected for the editorial team, the constantly nagging thought of _What if I’m not good at it?_. After all, they had accepted Minghao mostly because he was better than him. And Minghao isn’t even a graphic design major. Mingyu hasn’t bothered to ask what he’s majoring in but he knows for sure it’s not that.

So, maybe, just _maybe_ Minghao hit a soft spot, but it’s not like Mingyu’s ever gonna admit _that_.

“Stop be so stubborn, will you? Go with the original font for now. We can change it later,” Mingyu says, feeling the fight leave his body. He doesn’t want to fight. Because Minghao’s right. He _is_ nobody.

Minghao changes the font, to Mingyu’s utter surprise. He doesn’t try to argue with him any more, just quietly changes the font and then moves on with the insert. Maybe he notices the lack of any energy in his voice, or he just decides not to be a shitbag for once.

Mingyu is left in a solemn mood for the rest of the day, not finding the energy to speak unless necessary. Minghao doesn’t seem to notice, and for that, Mingyu is glad. He doesn’t want Minghao to notice anything about him. He just wants to get through this internship and never speak to Minghao ever again. They will part and Mingyu will get his peace back; they’ll go separate ways and Minghao won’t have any special memories of him and Mingyu won’t have any special memories of Minghao.

They do their work and Mingyu thinks it’s pretty great so far. Of course, Minghao needs to argue with him on literally _everything_.

“It’s not good enough,” Minghao states when Mingyu’s just about to pack up his things to leave for the day. Mingyu’s hand stills from where it was reaching out for a file on the desk.

“What?”

“It’s not good enough,” Minghao repeats, sounding a little annoyed. “We’re one third through and we have to be done in three weeks.”

“...Okay,” Mingyu says, slowly, slowly. “What do you propose we do?”

“Though this hurts me to say,” Minghao starts, then sighs. “We need to work after work together.”

Mingyu’s mouth opens a little. “You mean? You and me? After work?” He gestures between the two of them, and Mingyu could get stabbed by the sharpness of Minghao’s eyes.

“In case you didn’t know what _together_ means, yes, you and me. And trust me, I really don’t want to either.”

Mingyu looks around him, noticing only few people left in the room. “You mean right now? We’re gonna work now?”

“Does it look like we have time not to?” Minghao says, and Mingyu sighs. “My place is only twenty minutes away from here.”

“Mine’s thirty…” Mingyu says, and his whole body slumps at the idea. “Your place it is, then.”

Minghao packs up his stuff, in an antagonizing slow pace, and they finally leave to walk to Minghao’s apartment. They walk in complete silence, and Mingyu thinks he would be anywhere else other than here. It’s dark outside, and Mingyu hears the familiar sound of crickets, and he thinks how the sound so funnily explains their situation. It’s quiet and awkward and Mingyu’s very careful with walking a reasonable length away from him, not to accidentally brush their arms or something else that would make Mingyu want to disappear into thin air.

The stars are protected by thick layers of clouds tonight, and for some reason, it makes Mingyu sad. He really hoped he’d get some sort of mental support for this evening to come, but nope. He suddenly thinks of mental support and what person that is always his mental support, in every situation. He pulls up his phone and clicks in on the messaging app. He makes sure Minghao can’t see his screen when he writes, _I have to work longer with_ him _since our insert’s apparently not good enough yet, I’ll come home late_

Seokmin responds fast. _What about our movie night?_

Mingyu can almost hear the pouting. _Tomorrow?_

 _Okay (:_ , Seokmin writes back, and Mingyu feels kinda bad.

 _I’m sorry_. Seokmin responds, _No, don’t worry about it. Do your best!_

Mingyu smiles at the attached picture, a dog laying on its back on a green field, looking immensely playful and happy. Dogs is the way to go if someone would try to comfort Mingyu. Dogs _always_ work.

During the texting Mingyu forgot a little about Minghao and their late night work, but when he puts his phone back in his pocket and is left staring at the road in front of him, he’s acutely aware of it once again.

Minghao seems equally bored, judging by the sour look on his face, and during these fifteen minutes left Mingyu thinks he’s gonna explode of awkwardness. _God, please help me. I don’t wanna do this. He doesn’t wanna do this. Please make it less awkward._

But then again, when has things ever gone as Mingyu has wanted them to go? Zero. Never. Nada.

They walk in suffocating silence for those excruciating slow fifteen minutes, and when Minghao walks to the right, to the silhouette of a dark building, Mingyu feels relieved. He’s sure he can find something to distract him with in his apartment. It’s not gonna be like this in there too.

They walk up the stairs and Minghao stops in the second floor, struggling with the key to his apartment. He sighs troubled but then the door swings open, and Minghao straightens up. He takes a look at Mingyu and then gestures to the open door.

“Welcome in, I guess,” he says, and Mingyu nods a little before brushing past Minghao to his apartment. Mingyu steps inside and takes off his shoes after a moment of hesitation in the doorway. He puts his shoes neatly together and then looks around him. It’s a relatively big apartment, with a living room, a kitchen and a closed door Mingyu suspects is the bedroom.

Mingyu takes a step into the living room, and is fascinated to see magazines, papers and what looks like candy wrappers spread around on the small coffee table, the dining table behind the couches and even on the window sills. He huffs out a small laugh, and turns his gaze to the conjoined kitchen, that’s small and comfortable and less messy than the living room. _So messy._

“What is it?” Mingyu hears from behind him, and he turns around to find Minghao hanging off his coat on one of the coathangers, not even looking at him. Mingyu takes off his coat as well, walking to the coat hanger to hang it up next to Minghao’s red one.

“What _what_?” Mingyu asks slowly, wondering if Minghao somehow can read his mind. _Is he a mindreader? Does that explain how well he gets along with everyone at the office?_

“I heard your laugh,” Minghao says coolly as he walks across the room. He dumps his folders on the table next to the window and plops down on a chair. He looks up at Mingyu. “What were you thinking about?”

Mingyu doesn’t know whether to stay where he is or to join Minghao around the table. He chooses the latter, since Minghao looks kind of impatient. “I just- Your apartment is so messy. You must never clean this place.”

Minghao snorts. “For your information, I cleaned the other week. And it’s not _messy_ , it’s just unorganized.”

“Sure,” Mingyu says, leaning back in the chair. “Whatever you say.”

Minghao rolls his eyes and then opens his computer. “Okay, I propose we start with that article first, then we can do the layout for it. Did you find any ideas for it?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says and opens his own computer. “I thought I could write about the hottest fall collection right now, since our readers really like that kind of stuff. I’d have to look up some things first, though.”

Minghao nods. “Do that. In the meantime, I’ll do some ads.”

Mingyu looks up from his screen, feeling and surely looking dumbfounded. “But shouldn’t I do the ads? Since I’m literally an ads intern?”

Minghao shrugs. “I’m better at it than you are, though.”

Mingyu grits his teeth, trying to hold his tongue in place. It lasts about three seconds. “You’re so rude, you know that? I have always wondered how other people don’t see that.”

Minghao looks at him, and a small smirk grows at seeing his face. “It’s just you who I’m rude to.”

Mingyu really wants to ask why he’s so rude to him, if he wronged him in any way, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to bring up that night some months ago - the shame and embarrassment has etched far into his mind, making him want to curl up at the bare thought of ever talking about it with Minghao. Mingyu can’t even picture it in his head. Would Minghao be as snarky and impolite as ever and throw rude comments at him, or would he be quiet and a little more humble than usually? Would Mingyu turn a lovely shade of red or would he be able to compose himself? Would things change? Would it make things worse?

Mingyu feels a little knot in his stomach at the scenario; it would be like walking into the darkest and deepest forests without any flashlight to guide him, and he would stumble and fall several times just to come out of the forest with bruises and cuts.

He decides not to bring it up. Ever.

Instead of giving Minghao an answer, Mingyu pulls out his earphones from his pocket and puts them in the computer. He waits with putting in the second earphone in his ear until saying, “I’m gonna listen to music.”

He puts the earphone in and starts his “Mingyu’s Feel Good Playlist”. He opens a new document to start on the text and sees Minghao staring at his screen out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t care whether Mingyu listens to music or not, so Mingyu shrugs and starts searching around on the net.

They work silently for two hours, and Mingyu is rereading and correcting his text. He’s finally pleased with it, so he puts it in the shared document for now. He pulls his earphones out, feeling a little dizzy after staring at his screen for so long. He stretches in his seat, flailing his arms everywhere. He feels a hand on his right arm, and he looks at Minghao, who’s holding his arm. Minghao meets his gaze and slowly lowers his arm to the table.

“You were gonna hit me,” Minghao says, and Mingyu notices something in his voice. It’s new and unfamiliar; a monotonicity in his voice that’s usually not there. He sounds tired, Mingyu realises. He inspects his face closely now, from the dark circles under his eyes to the downwards slope of his mouth. Tiredness looks human on him, Mingyu thinks. He actually looks like someone who could be kind, to say nice things and to put a comforting hand on a shaking shoulder.

There’s chills going down Mingyu’s spine. He’s not used seeing Minghao tired, and he is definitely not used to seeing him this _human_.

“Okay,” is the only thing Mingyu says, because really, what more could be said?

Then, Mingyu figures out something else to say. “I should go. We’ve worked hard today.”

To his surprise, Minghao doesn’t argue with him. Maybe he’s too tired to argue, or he actually agrees that they’ve done a good job today.

Mingyu puts his things in his bag and stands from the chair. Several things in his body creaks and Mingyu thinks he should stretch more when he’s sitting by the computer. Minghao’s still sitting in the chair, and Mingyu is unsure how to proceed. Does he just leave?

Minghao doesn’t look at him, and Mingyu is really panicking by now. He doesn’t think he can stand this stuffiness anymore, so he does the easiest thing; he walks to the door and puts on his shoes hurriedly before going out the door. Not saying goodbye to someone who’s home he’s leaving feels plain wrong, but Mingyu’s sure actually saying goodbye to Minghao would feel even weirder.

The walk to Mingyu’s apartment is a short one, but it’s late and cold and he’s tired. He walks slowly, taking his time to get home. When he finally gets home, he almost cries at the sight of his bed. _So warm, so comforting, so beautiful._

Seokmin is asleep in his bed, and he’s snoring softly, so Mingyu decides against waking him up. He gets changed and then gets in his bed. Mingyu sighs, a sigh full of relief and happiness, and he’s just about to turn off the light when he gets a text.

Jimin

Are you free tomorrow?

Mingyu feels happy Jimin still wants to hang out with him, but his strong wish to go to sleep makes him turn off his phone instead of answering and turning off the light. He pulls the covers over himself, and decides to just answer her in the morning.

Mingyu closes his eyes and feels himself drift away. In a matter of minutes, he has fallen asleep.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu fears that it will go on and on. This _we-work-together-but-don’t-ever-talk-to-me_ thing. The thing where they’re both quiet for a while, and then when they will exchange ideas, the insults will come hurling out of their mouths. This thing where Mingyu can’t even smile at a coworker or write his article without hearing Minghao’s snort or feel his gaze over his shoulder.

He fears it will never change because it never does, the days look so much alike they almost blend together. Work, insult, sleep, repeat. It’s tiring and Mingyu falls asleep as soon as he gets home these days, Minghao’s taunts and sneers still sounding in his head.

Except, it does. Something changes, so slowly that Mingyu doesn’t recognise it at first. Something happens though, almost two weeks - thirteen short days - before the fashion week.

They’re kind of stressed, because they can only do so much with their insert before the fashion week, since most of the content will be _from_ the fashion week, so they try to do as much as they can now to avoid doing much more later. Minghao complained again about not having done enough stuff, and that whining has led them to yet another night in Minghao’s apartment. Mingyu’s come to learn that Minghao’s apartment is heaven and hell mixed together; it’s big, comfy and lots of space if Mingyu ever needs to take a step back to not “accidentally” punch Minghao. But it’s cold. Like, _really_ cold.

Mingyu sees the heaters next to the walls, he sees it being plugged in, so he wonders why _the heck_ Minghao doesn’t have any warmth in his apartment. He can obvious afford it. Minghao walks around in new coats everyday. And so, with two weeks left before the fashion week, Mingyu simply asks him.

“Why don’t you have heaters on? I’m freezing to death,” Mingyu says, and he already knows Minghao will be irritated with him.

Minghao turns his unimpressive gaze on him. “Put on more clothes.”

“If you put on the heater!” Mingyu counters with, and really, it’s childish. He knows it but he won’t back down now. Isn’t it kind of inhumane, working somewhere where it’s cold to the point where your feet are numb at the end of the work session? Minghao isn’t his boss, but he should at least take a little responsibility for his guests, right?

“Look,” Minghao sighs. “I like it cold. I’m a very warm person naturally, so I like it like this. You have to adjust if you don’t like it.”

“Warm person,” Minghu mutters, and Minghao’s eyes narrows at him.

“I hear you, you know,” he informs, and Mingyu rolls his eyes.

“I’m very much aware.”

They continue on, and Mingyu’s just putting some pictures together to the page when he feels a ghost on his back. He looks back to see Minghao staring at his screen, eyes focused on the page he’s working on.

Suddenly, Mingyu feels self conscious. This is not a foreign feeling with Minghao, since he likes to complain about everything Mingyu does, and he has felt it numerous times before, but just today, Mingyu feels more vulnerable than usual. This is his work. His talent. His _passion._ He doesn’t want Minghao tearing it apart, inspecting every angle and letter of it to just leave it in a broken pile later, and so he waits for the inevitable rude comment.

But it doesn’t come. Instead, Minghao says, “Thats looks good.”

Mingyu is shocked. Scratch that, he can’t believe his eyes and ears. Xu Minghao, giving him a compliment, in this economy?

“Thank you,” he says, slowly. He eyes him, but finds nothing suspicious. Minghao’s face is open, as honest as he has seen it like _ever_ , and then Minghao gets back to his chair, sitting down and starting writing on his computer without looking at him.

Mingyu goes home a little earlier than usual, complaining that he won’t get any sleep if he doesn’t, and Minghao lets him go without any arguing.

When Mingyu gets to his dorm, he’s happy to be able to just go to bed instantly. He’s had a long day, and he feels sleep tugging at him. Seokmin isn’t there, and Mingyu wonders where the hell he could be this late on the day, but then his mind replays some memory from some days ago when he mentioned he were going to go out with a friend - Seungkwan, was it? - Friday night. Mingyu gets changed to his pyjama and sits down on the bed, scrolling through his phone without actually concentrating. His eyes widen though when he sees a message from Jimin. He suddenly groans, remembering seeing the message before going to sleep the night before.

_I’m sorry!! I was so tired last night, I didn’t register that really…_

He sits anxiously and waits, even though it’s fully possible that she’s asleep or busy or ignoring him.

_It’s okay._

Nothing more. Mingyu gulps.

_Are you angry?_

_Maybe a little._ Mingyu feels something tight in his chest, and he feels like a gigantic idiot, then, _But really, I get it. Let’s forget about it._

_Sorry. Maybe we can spend some time this weekend? I’m free on Sunday!_

_Sure. I’ll see you outside your dorm. Goodnight now, Mingyu-ah._

_Goodnight, noona._

 

 

—

 

 

Minghao hears the vibration before Mingyu does.

He looks up from the computer, eyes adjusting to the lowly lit lighting in the room, and looks at Mingyu after a couple of second hesitation. Mingyu is completely immersed in his work; eyes fixed on the screen and eyebrows knitted while biting his lip as he scans the computer screen. Minghao is sure the vibration comes from Mingyu’s pocket, and he reaches over the table to poke him with his finger.

“Hey, your phone’s ringing,” he says, and Mingyu’s head whips up in a fast movement. He looks bewildered on Minghao’s finger poking into his shoulder, and Minghao is quick to retreat his hand and to go back to his work.

He sees him out of the corner of his mind though, Mingyu still looking a little suspicious but fishes out his phone from his pocket. His face eases as he looks at the caller. He looks up at Minghao again, and Minghao forces his gaze to be stuck on his computer. Mingyu rises from the table and walks a little away from him, and he ends up at the kitchen entrance when he finally answers the buzzing phone.

“Hi?” Mingyu asks, quietly, and when he seemingly hears the voice on the other end of the phone he smiles. “How are you, baby sister?”

Minghao can’t hear much, and it isn’t like he _cares_ who Mingyu is talking to, but he manages to catch some of the things Mingyu says.

“I’m fine, Minseo, can you tell mom that too? I’m getting so many voicemails from her and I feel horrible for not being able to pick up, so tell her to not worry too much, okay? I’m good, really, I just have a lot going on.”

Minghao isn’t quite able to focus on the article he’s writing, his ears involuntary picks up what’s being said on the phone. _Goddammit, Kim Mingyu. You can’t even talk a little quiet, can you? It’s always your way or no way…_

But Minghao doesn’t feel that angry. He finds it rather …. Fascinating. It’s fascinating to hear how Mingyu’s tone changes when he starts talking to his sister, how it changes from tense, curt, forced when he’s talking to Minghao to relaxed, _excited_ when he talks to his sister.

Minghao wants to laugh. _He really hates me now._

“Yeah, yeah… Oh, really? … My job? … It’s going fine, I’m even doing an insert for the magazine! What? … I didn’t tell you? Okay, well, I am doing an insert. It’s doing fine. It’s only a couple of days until the fashion week. … I’ll send you pictures, I promise, Minseo-yah,”

Mingyu says, and Minghao doesn’t know if it’s his imagination or that his voice turns softer toward the end. Minghao turns his gaze to Mingyu. His face definitely looks softer, younger, than it had before.

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m working with someone. A guy in my age,” Mingyu says, looking at Minghao suddenly, and Minghao looks away quickly. _No way he’s gonna plant an idea in Mingyu’s head. He’ll probably think I like him, that idiot._

Mingyu puts a hand around the phone, turning away, lowering his voice. “What? No! He’s not hot! Minseo-yah, stop,” he whines, probably not aware that Minghao still can hear him.

Minghao rolls his eyes, because he’s _hot_ , but the urge to chuckle suddenly appears. He pushes it back down again, because _no way in hell Mingyu’s gonna see his wonderful laugh_ , and manages to keep a straight face.

“Okay, well, I need to go now, Minseo-yah. Do well in school, will you? You know how our parents worry. And, please, tell them that I am fine! They don’t have to worry at all. … Yeah, sure, if I have to,” Mingyu says, sighing. “Bye Minseo! Love you!”

He hangs up and after a moment of looking down, straightens up and walks back to the table. He plops down on the chair and after a silent moment grumbles out a _My sister says hi_ , almost through gritted teeth. Minghao nods and smiles.

“Tell her I said hi too, next time you talk to her,” Minghao says, expecting the open mouth and widened eyes on the man sitting opposite him at the table.

He knows _exactly_ what buttons to press. How to make him riled up, to grit his teeth and shouts insults at the top of his lungs. How to make Mingyu shut up.

_He is in control._


	3. hate me now (i wish you would figure it out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D-Day. Mingyu learns a few things about what it means being a responsible, mature adult -- and not with Minghao's help.

“Seokmin…” Mingyu whines sadly into the phone. “I’m so, so sorry, I’ll make it up to you! I promise! Whatever you want; food, karaoke, an extra pizza on our movie nights…”

He’s in the office’s bathroom, standing in a stall and trying to speak quietly in case there’s someone else in the bathroom. He’s worrying his bottom lip as he stares at the white door, jumping his leg up and down out of worry as he sits on the toilet lid.

He hears an exhale on the other end. “You gotta work with Minghao today again?”

“Yes,” Mingyu says, and he hopes Seokmin hears how miserable he sounds. Because he is. He wouldn’t want nothing more than to get home to Seokmin and his dorm to eat ice cream and just lazy around with him, watching a movie or just talking. He wants that badly. But it’s D-5, only five little days until the fashion week. And now the preparations are in full focus; they’ve got to fix cameras, schedules, topics, assistance and a bunch of other stuff. He can’t slack off right now. He really can’t.

“I get it,” Seokmin says, and Mingyu closes his eyes when he hears the sadness in his voice. “I just want someone to talk to…”

He says it so quietly Mingyu wonders if it’s just his imagination. He opens his eyes again. “What?”

“Nothing,” Seokmin says, and gone is the quiet, fragile voice. He sounds brighter, and Mingyu can sense a little smile as he says, “Do well, Mingyu-yah. I’ll be fine here.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says. Pathetic.

“I get it,” the other says, and then, “I gotta go now to my classes. Bye.”

He hangs up before Mingyu has a chance to answer, and he looks down at his phone with raised eyebrows. He shrugs it off and unlocks the stall.

He washes his hands even though he wasn’t on the toilet for those reasons (the stalls are surely full of bacteria!) and wipes his hands at a towel nearby. He finally looks up at the mirror and he is a little surprised at the reflection; tired, dark eyes staring back at him, with a mouth pointing downward and his eyebrows seemingly permanently knitted. He knows he should get more sleep; that he should rest more in order to have more energy and look healthier. But what he doesn’t have right now is time - he will have to sleep when he’s back from the fashion week.

 

 

—

 

 

Somehow, they start talking. Like actual, functioning adults.

Minghao starts with asking something, which Mingyu hesitantly answers, that Minghao then comments about. Mingyu is astounded - it’s not mean comments. They’re so _normal._ Questions you could ask any colleague, comments that doesn’t hold any sharpness or sarcasm. It’s weird. It’s all Mingyu ever wanted.

Through these five weird, weird days, Mingyu learns a lot. He learns that Minghao loves spicy food - they had to order food one day because they were both starving and Minghao loudly protested against ordering something that was not spicy. “It’s my money!” -, that he despises cold days and that he’s very a secretive person.

Maybe secretive isn’t the right word for it. More like … reserved. Mingyu asked him about his family, and Minghao’s answer was short and lacking of any further need for elaboration; “My parents and my little brother.”

Now, after Mingyu dared to ask him about a rather personal question, his confidence grows and he finds himself asking Minghao stuff in-between working on their insert. Things like “How long did you live in China?”, “Is your major the one you wanted to study from the beginning?” and “Which day were you born?”

Minghao isn’t that keen to answer, and he looks at him with a irritated kind of expression. “Why all these questions?”

Mingyu shrugs, and says before thinking, “Making up for lost time.”

He realises too late that he maybe shouldn’t mention these couple of months, afraid that the memory of Minghao despising his guts would remind him that he should continue with that.

But, adding to Mingyu’s neverending list of things that manages to surprise him, Minghao smiles. Not a big smile. Not even one really sincere. But it’s a smile, a small, amused smile gracing his face. It makes Minghao look younger; his mouth curving upwards in a gentle line instead of a downwards twist of a frown. It makes him look kind.

“Alright. Well, I’ve lived here since I was eight, since my parents wanted to find happiness in another country. I’ve always wanted to study fashion and editorial, yes. And well… Maybe I should keep my birthdate a secret for now,” Minghao says, and the smile hasn’t really disappeared fully yet. His eyes sparkles, seemingly amused.

“Why?” Mingyu even dares to put in a whine in his voice, and Minghao shakes his head. “I already know you’re born in 1997! You’re the same age as me.”

“Oh, really?” Minghao leans forward over the table suddenly, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I know your birth date. Sixth of April, am I right?”

Mingyu’s mouth opens. “How did you know that?”

Minghao leans back now, and shakes his head once again. “There’s this thing called social media, you know.”

Mingyu gasps. “Have you looked me up on social media?”

Minghao gives him an unimpressed look. “Don’t think too much of it. I wanted to know who I was going to work with.”

“But we knew each other for a couple of months when we were given the assignment of the insert…” Mingyu says, frowning.

“Not then,” Minghao says, and then adds. “Before.”

Suddenly, the air turns electrical. Memories rushes in Mingyu’s head, making him dizzy; the bright lights, the wooden bar table, Minghao’s shy smile, Minghao’s slender fingers on his arm.

Minghao seems to also feel the tension, because he quickly shuts up, looking away instead of meeting Mingyu’s gaze. The air becomes more and more stuffed - Mingyu wants to unbotton the top bottom of his shirt. He fears it would become more tense then, though.

As they both sit in awkward silence, Mingyu thinks hard. Maybe he should bring it up. Bring up _that_ night. For once and for all, try to solve this mess this has become. Mingyu doesn’t even know how things turned out this way; he didn’t think Minghao would suddenly start to ignore his existence and treat him like air some time after they did … _intimate_ stuff together.

It’s weird. It’s weird because things has never been like this before. It’s been awkward, surely, with Mingyu’s past one night stands, even distressing, but Mingyu and the person would always make it work the morning after. And if they were to pass by each other on the street by some slim chance, they’d always try to make it less awkward. Mingyu has gotten to know a lot of interesting people and he doesn’t regret those nights in the slightest.

But nothing has ever been like this. _Awkward_ is barely scratching the surface. _Distressing_ is something Mingyu would happily switch for whatever _this_ is. _This_ is confusing and frustrating and everything in between. He just wants it to be easy. Why can’t it just be easy?

Mingyu wonders if he should just mention it. Mention that night and its consequences out loud, for the first time. He wonders how Minghao would react, and if it would change everything.

Then, Minghao clears his throat and the air clears, the moment passes. Mingyu looks up suddenly, as if he’s out of a daze, to look at Minghao’s downcast eyes.

“Can I see what you’ve done on the ad? I need to see if I need to readjust it,” he says, not raising his eyes.

Mingyu nods mutely and places his laptop in front of Minghao. The rest of the night continues on normally; they eat instant noodles, work some more and then Mingyu goes home. Without mentioning or saying something about that weird thing that happened between them. Without getting any answers or apologies.

He goes home and tries to forgot about it.

 

 

—

 

 

“You two have worked hard for these past months at our magazine, and it’s time that it will pay off,” Mr Lee starts off with saying, speaking with a certain stiffness in his tone. “As you may be aware of the Fashion Week is in two days. You don’t have to be there for the whole week, since you’re still interns, so we have decided that you will be there for four days. Three nights. We will send you more detailed information soon, and until then, finish off the last preparations. I believe your insert will be good, so work hard.”

Mingyu nods, and so does Minghao beside him. They bid farewell and walk out of Mr Lee’s office, stopping outside to look at each other.

Minghao speaks first. “We’ve really worked hard.”

Mingyu nods again. “We have.”

“I think our insert will kick ass,” Minghao says, with so much unexpected determination that it makes Mingyu laugh. Minghao allows a little smile to bloom on his face, and Mingyu is once again astounded at it.

“I’m sure it will,” Mingyu says, a small smile lingering on his face. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

“Yeah,” Minghao responds, and together, they walk into their office.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu is packing and Seokmin is eating snacks beside him. Mingyu is on the floor, Seokmin on the bed right next to him. Seokmin is holding a magazine, lazily flipping through the pages as he continues making those obnoxiously loud noises while chewing.

“Seokmin, can you stop that?” Mingyu says, looking up at him. Seokmin looks at him back with a puzzled expression.

“With what?”

“The chewing,” Mingyu says, and Seokmin smiles.

“Like this? He says, chewing extra loudly. He laughs as Mingyu tries to hit him on the arm.

They continue with their own stuff, and there is a comfortable feeling over their room; the feeling that comes from being friends a long time and being absolutely comfortable around each other. Mingyu is so happy he and Seokmin were assigned roommates the first year - wide-eyed, scared teenagers being not so alone in a big, unfamiliar university. Mingyu can’t even imagine having another person as roommate.

“Hey, Seokmin-ah, is there any snacks left?” Mingyu asks after he puts down the trousers he was folding. Seokmin looks up again and nods, lucking a little guilty.

“Well, actually, I’ve been eating a lot of our snacks the past few days, but I think there’s some left….” Seokmin says, making the puppy eyes for effect for his next words. “Sorry?”

Mingyu shakes his head and smiles. “It’s okay. It’s just that packing is _so_ frustrating, I need something else to do,” he says.

“What’s so hard about packaging?” Seokmin says, carefree, and Mingyu narrows his eyes at him as he stands up to go to Seokmin’s cupboard where they keep their snacks. He takes a package down from the shelf and sits down again, opening the bag with a _pop_.

“You’ve obviously never gone through the pains of packing to a _fashion week_ ,” Mingyu says, and then sighs. “I don’t have any nice clothes. It all looks ugly and cheap.”

Seokmin raises an eyebrow, his favourite gesture when it comes to Mingyu. “Hey, don’t say that. Your clothes are awesome. They’re fashionable and they don’t look cheap at all. And don’t do your parents dirty like that.”

“My parents?” Mingyu frowns. “What does this have to do with them?”

“They raised you, _duh_?” Seokmin says. “They provided clothes for you for many, many years.”

“But I buy my own clothes,” Mingyu says, feeling a bit confused.

Seokmin waves a finger at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I don’t notice the money your parents send you.”

Mingyu sighs, knowing he won’t get anywhere arguing with Seokmin, and he _is_ kind of right. He shakes his head and starts eating his chips. They’re silent for a while, and Mingyu is thinking which shirt will go best by his trousers, when Seokmin surprises him.

“So, have you hung out with Jimin lately?” He says, casually, still looking down on his magazine, but it makes Mingyu’s feel something in his stomach drop. Oh. Oh no.

“No,” he says, cringing as that one word sound so raw and shameful coming from his own mouth.

“Nothing? It’s been some weeks… What about texting then?” Seokmin says, now looking up from his magazine.

“No?” Mingyu says, and Seokmin puts down the magazine. Mingyu gulps.

“Mingyu…”

“I’m sorry!” Mingyu blurts, even though Seokmin isn’t the one he should apologize to. “I just- I always forget to reply to her messages, and I’ve been so busy lately, it’s like I _can’t_ spare one or two hours because then I will get behind and Minghao will scold me and your dad is gonna scold me-”

“Hey, hey,” Seokmin interrupts, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Easy. It’s okay, Mingyu-yah. I’m not blaming you or anything. I’m just wondering.”

Mingyu remembers to breathe, and he nods. Then shakes his head. “I really should talk to her.”

“Yeah, if you wanna go somewhere with that crush of yours,” Seokmin says, back to his teasing self. Mingyu smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says, and starts with packing again. “I should.”

 

 

—

 

 

_Hey, Jimin. Sorry for not being able to hang out with you and not answering. I’ve just been so busy. Would a dinner after I get back suffice for an apologize? All the love, Mingyu._

 

 

—

 

 

It’s the first day of Seoul Fashion Week and Mingyu is stressed.

He is rushing around in his dorm, throwing around clothes and knocking down books from the desks in his rush to get all his stuff done. Technically, he has finished _packing_ , but he figured he could get his things like toothbrush and deodorant in the morning, since he was gonna use them in the morning and would have to get them out if he packed them down.

Of course, this was a bad idea.

Mingyu is screaming and Seokmin starts screaming too. Finally, Mingyu thinks he has all the things he needs; he double-checks his packing list in his head, reassuring himself that he got everything.

As if he can read his mind, Seokmin says, “You haven’t forgotten anything. Don’t worry. Anyways, you can just come back if you have forgotten something important. It’s so close.”

Mingyu nods after a moment, feeling much more calm already. He stops in the hall and looks at Seokmin, at his bedhead and much too big sleep shirt, and smiles. He steps forward and embraces Seokmin, and Seokmin hugs back. They stand there for a while, and Mingyu knows Seokmin knows what he wants to say: _Thank you for always being a great friend._

They part, and Seokmin smiles brightly at him. “Do your best, Mingyu-yah. I’ll be here, so just call if you need to.”

Mingyu nods. “I’ll probably take up on that offer more than one time.”

Seokmin laughs. “I look forward to it.”

They part for real now with wide smiles, and Seokmin bids him farewell with a cheerful “Have fun!”

Mingyu’s soon out of the apartment complex, and he walks to the bus station. The magazine staff had agreed to get to the hotel where they all would be staying on their own. He hops on the bus and manages to kill time until his stop is near. He gets off and stands in the bus shelter while looking up at the building opposite him. It’s a big building, an old one too, and it got a red rug in front of its entrance with small cressets on either sides of the rug, even though it’s early morning and a quite sunny day for early winter.

He feels it is a little out of his league when he walks up the fancy hotel’s rug and opens the door into a rush of warm air. He was told they were gonna meet up at ten o’clock at the hotel’s lobby, and he lets out a breath of relief when he sees a group of familiar people stand around the scattered leather chairs and loveseats. Mingyu walks up to them and greets Dowoon, who insists - just like Sungjin - that they call him by his first name.

“Dowoon-hyung, how long have you been here?” He asks, and looks around if he finds another familiar face that he usually talks to. He sees a mop of bright red hair at the back, and he finds himself smiling as he waves to Minghao, who looks sceptictical, but waves back.

“Just a few minutes. We’re gonna check in now, and then go to the hall where the fashion shows are held,” he says, looking around a little distracted while looking around the place.

He looks up at Mingyu suddenly and flashes him that childish grin of his, speaking in a comically formal voice. “Are you ready for this fashion week, Mr Kim?”

Mingyu straightens his posture, putting on a blank expression. “Yes sir, yes!”

 

 

—

 

 

Dowoon doesn’t get to answer him, because just then, Mrs Kang, who’s in charge when Mr Lee isn’t around, announces that they will go to their rooms now. The group of maybe thirty people walk down the heavily rugged corridor hall and stop when Mrs Kang clears her voice.

“We have split up the group into pairs of two and we hope you don’t have any objections to the arrangement. Then, let’s begin. Mr Park, Mr Kwon, room 103. Mr Yoon, Mr Park, room 104. Mrs Kim, Miss Oh, room 105. Mr Kim, Mr Xu, room 106…”

Dowoon nods, happy to share a room with Mr Kwon, who’s a funny and sensible guy. When he hears the interns names though, his gaze moves to the two young men, who turns to look at the other slowly. Then, they smile at each. They _smile_.

Dowoon might be an older, busier man than the interns, but he is positively _sure_ he hasn’t misinterpreted Mingyu’s and Minghao’s little … disputes at the office. They always seem to butt heads whatever they do, exchanging sharp words and fire-blazed looks at any given second. He was sure they disliked each other. He even pitied them after Mr Lee announced their job with the insert, knowing it would only bring bad things.

But now… They smile at each other, in the small, secretive way, and look at each other with something that isn’t disgust and Dowoon wonders if he has misunderstood the whole situation. He shakes his head. He was probably wrong.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu never thought he’d be sharing a room with Minghao.

Never, _ever_ in his life would he think he would share a room with _Xu Minghao_ at any given point in his future. Well, he hasn’t known Minghao all his life, but _still_.

It’s a little awkward. They unlock their room and step inside, putting down their bags. Then there’s this pause, as if both of them don’t know how to proceed. They’re hovering over their bags, both of them looking around at the room. It’s like any hotel room: soft beds (two, Mingyu breathes out. He’s _not_ gonna be like one of those people in novels that has to share it with someone), a bathroom, a TV over a desk. But there’s one detail that makes Mingyu gasp with excitement: there’s a view. A hella good view. The view of Seoul at it’s finest, with an overlook at the pretty, bright lights and passing cars. He smiles. It’s just like the editorial team’s room in the office. He’s thrilled, and he quickly tosses his bag on the bed next to the window, calling dibs on the bed, and when he looks back, Minghao shakes his head as he puts his bag on his bed.

Mingyu steps up on his bed, and suddenly he feels like he’s five again, because he starts jumping up and down on his hotel bed. He laughs, because it’s jumpy and soft and because Minghao suddenly starts laughing too. He tries to get Minghao up beside him, but he’s as unmoving as a piece of rock. Finally, after a lot of convincing and dragging, Minghao gives in, walking carefully up on the bed to jump beside them.

It’s funny, because they’re both twenty-one, and they jump on the bed as if they’re kids. It’s fun, though, and Mingyu thinks he likes seeing the carefree, unreserved smile on Minghao’s lips more than jumping around like madmen. No, scratch that. He likes it _way_ more.

 

 

—

 

 

Seoul Fashion Week. Is. Amazing.

Mingyu finds it hard to put it in words. He’s interested in fashion, not as much as Minghao, but still. He’s interested in fashion and people and all that and Seoul Fashion Week is the most fun he’s had in awhile.

It’s so confusingly, wonderfully overwhelming; dazzling bright colors, attractive people everywhere, round, gold-rimmed glasses on the high noses of important, watching people, amazingly weird and creative outfits and accessories. The catwalks are the most fun, Mingyu thinks. He likes the sound of his camera shutting with each picture being taken, likes being able to think about the clothes as the models walk forward and back, likes the hot air in the room, making it feel crowded and full of life.

The first day passes quickly, and Mingyu is so busy with taking pictures and taking notes he doesn’t get a chance to talk to Minghao until the evening.

They’re in their hotel room, taking turns going to the bathroom to wash up and change, and they’re both sitting under their covers when Mingyu looks at Minghao, who looks deeply engrossed in a book. He’s wearing glasses, Mingyu notes immediately. They’re thick, black and makes his facial features look different, somehow. Mingyu is fascinated, because _does Minghao wear glasses and why didn’t I know until now?_ , and Minghao looks up after a while.

“What?” He asks, not unkind.

“The glasses,” Mingyu gets out, and Minghao seems to be confused for a second before realising the glasses sitting on his nose.

“Oh right,” he says, and puts the book in his lap. “I wear glasses.”

“Why haven’t I ever seen them?” Mingyu asks, still searching his face and comparing the image of Minghao in glasses and Minghao without glasses. He looks the same, but he looks …. kinder, somehow, in the glasses. Or, well, maybe not kinder, but softer. Soft as in hearing rain fall outside your window when you’re about to fall asleep, soft in the way sleepy words are mumbled between friends on a sleepover, soft as seeing a person you love wearing an oversized hoodie and bedhead.

Mingyu doesn’t have any words for that either.

“Well, I usually wear lenses, but I’ve using them too much lately, so my eyes hurt,” Minghao says, and lets his hands fall to the side of his legs. “I figured wearing glasses tonight might be good.”

Mingyu nods. “Why don’t you wear them during the day? They’re cool.”

Minghao’s eyes seem to lighten up, if the light isn’t playing a trick on Mingyu, and he smiles lazily. “Thanks. I like lenses more though. I feel more confident in them.”

Mingyu’s head automatically files this piece of new information in his brain, under the file _Xu Minghao_. There is a small, but important amount of little details Mingyu has noticed or Minghao has mentioned. _Likes wearing lenses because they make him feel more confident,_ check.

“Okay,” Mingyu says, and he realises he needs to say something to keep the conversation going, but Minghao beats him to it.

“What about you? You don’t have any small, hidden secret that you haven’t told me?” He’s smirking, and Mingyu doesn’t know what to make out of it.

“Well… I like to sleep in my Star Wars pyjama still?” Mingyu says, a little hesitant, and Minghao chuckles.

“Star Wars?”

Mingyu nods. “Star Wars. Fucking amazing.”

He chuckles again. “I have to disagree with you there. _Star Trek_ is the real shit.”

“Gasp,” Mingyu gasps, “No shit. You like Star Trek more than Star Wars?”

“Yup,” Minghao says, shrugging. “It’s the superior space story, obviously.”

“No, it isn’t!” Mingyu protests, gasping again for dramatic effect. “I didn’t know I was sharing room with the enemy.”

Minghao just smiles. “In your dreams, kiddo.”

Mingyu huffs. “Sure.”

It’s quiet after that, but they both know they’re just thinking and they’re not arguing. _They’re not arguing._ It’s almost too good to be true.

They go to bed after another half an hour of an ebb and flow of conversation, and Mingyu dreams of space and a fallen star when he sleeps.

 

 

—

 

 

It’s the second day of the fashion week and Mingyu is rushing to get dressed. He really doesn’t get why his luck is so non-existent anymore. He likes being on time but he’s gotten late several times the past few weeks and Mingyu wonders the reason behind his recent tardiness.

Today, though, it was the goddamn alarm. It didn’t wake him as usual, and Minghao was busy choosing his own outfit for the day to think of waking him up.

He’s rushed, and he still hasn’t brushed his teeth or washed up, so he picks up the first respectable thing he finds on the floor. (Their room is already a mess. It’s Minghao’s fault, Mingyu must point out.) He sees that it’s a pink hoodie made of fine fabric that would fit his black jeans so he puts it on without second thoughts, going into the bathroom to wash his face. When he comes out, phone in hand, he notices Minghao stopping in his tracks to stare at him. Mingyu immediately locks eyes with him.

“What?”

Minghao points at him. “That hoodie.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu looks down, and looks backs up, confused.

“It’s mine,” Minghao says, and _ah_. That’s why he didn’t recognize it. That’s why it was on the floor.

Mingyu is quick to react and he’s already tugging on the hems to pull it over his head when Minghao raises his hand. “No, no, it’s okay.”

Mingyu’s hand stills. Minghao’s gaze is still stuck on him.

“It looks good on you,” he says, and Mingyu is breathless; it makes his face go red and his palms tingling.

“Thanks,” he says. “You sure?”

Minghao looks away. “I’m sure.”

They leave for another day of the fashion week and Mingyu is smiling the whole way there.

 

 

—

 

 

Minghao’s hoodie is a cute shade of pink and so, so warm. It’s a little tight on him, but not by much, and not noticable. It’s warm and soft and smell of clementines. Mingyu doesn’t think he ever wants to take it off.

 

 

—

 

 

The day that follows consists of catwalks, backstage interviews with fashion brands’ CEO, and snapping pictures of the models as Minghao take the turn to note down the model’s outfits and companies.

It’s exhausting and fun, and when they get to their room, both Minghao and Mingyu fall into their respective beds and stay there for a while.

“I’m so tired,” Mingyu groans.

Minghao sighs. “Me too.”

Mingyu lifts his head off the bed. “Wanna go out and eat?”

“Hell yeah,” Minghao says and lifts his head as well. They nod, determined, and don't bother changing clothes before they go out again.

They walk down the streets from the hotel and quickly see a restaurant. They read together the menu and look at each other before nodding in unison. They walk into the warm restaurant and look around. It’s small, and there are old paintings hanging on the walls with yellow-ish, soft lighting casting its light on them. Minghao nudges him, and when Mingyu gives him a confused look, Minghao nods to the middle of the restaurant, where some of their colleagues are sitting, laughing and cheering with their glasses of beers. Minghao pulls on Mingyu’s hoodie - Minghao’s - and he follows him to a table at the far end of the restaurant.

They take off their coats and Minghao breathes out. “They look like they’ve had one too many beers. I thought it’d be nicer to be just the two of us,” he says, and maybe Mingyu agrees to a 100%.

 

 

—

 

 

It’s the third day of the fashion week, and it follows the same pattern as the previous days. They talk with important people, interviewing them for articles, snapping pictures of the models and the clothes, jotting down notes to use when they get back to the office and all that.

Today, though, Mr Park takes them aside while they’re taking photos. He leads them to a quiet, more isolated corner and smiles at them. “How it is going? You’re getting a lot to write about?”

Not many of their seniors at the magazine have checked up on them to see how they’re doing at the fashion week, and that Mr Pa-, no, Sungjin does just that makes Mingyu smile.

“It’s going well!” He exclaims with an excited smile. “It’s so amazing here, how do you all not long for this week all year?”

Sungjin laughs. “It’s fun, but I guess we’ve all been here so many times we’re becoming somewhat numb to it. You’re gonna be too, if you work here in the future.”

He winks at them, and Minghao smiles that polite, fond smile. “Thank you, Sungjin-hyung.”

“Of course,” Sungjin says, patting them on their shoulders. “Now, I gotta get going. Do your best!”

They nod and watch Sungjin disappear into a group of people, and Mingyu turns his look to Minghao. Minghao’s already looking at him though, and they smile with determined nods.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu and Minghao finish for the day, and they go back to their room to start working on their articles. They have one week after the fashion week to finish the insert, so they get to work immediately and work under silence for some time. Soon, though, maybe some hours later, Mingyu stretches in the desk chair, rubbing his eyes and yawing.

“Tired?” A voice says from behind him. He turns in the chair to see Minghao sitting on the bed with his laptop in his lap, glasses perched on his nose today too, looking at him.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says, because he really is becoming tired. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Minghao says, and Mingyu yawns again. “Come on, let’s wrap this up.”

Mingyu feels his eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Minghao says, looking at his laptop. “Come here.”

Mingyu is hesitant, but Minghao’s voice is as determined as always, and he comes closer to the bed.

Minghao looks up, his glasses farther down on his nose than before, and it makes Mingyu want to chuckle of fondness. Minghao pats the space between him, and rolls his eyes. “Come here, idiot.”

Mingyu gets on the bed, still with hesitation, and after a moment, looks at what Minghao is doing on his laptop. He sees a streaming site’s logo and the words “Star Trek” being written in the search field.

“Now, you, Star Trek-anti, will become a Star Trek fan. I’m gonna put on the best episode and hope for the best,” Minghao says, and finds the episode, and then clicks on _play_.

Mingyu chuckles. “Really?”

Minghao meets his gaze. “Really. I can’t go around sharing a room with someone who hasn’t even given Star Trek a _chance_.”

Mingyu nods. “Copy that.”

Suddenly, the episode starts for real, and they both hush. Mingyu’s arm brushes Minghao’s, and he realizes how close they’re sitting together. He feels something tight in his chest, like it’s being squeezed, and he wonders if he should open a window to let some air in and let him breathe. He doesn’t do that, though.

He stays put, watching Star Trek with both a wrinkled nose and focused eyes. He’s intrigued, he got to say. The episode began somewhat interesting.

Mingyu doesn’t get something later, and so he asks. He gets a hushed _just watch it_ reply and tries again later, when he doesn’t understand something either. It’s something to do with the characters that has happened a previous episode, something Mingyu doesn’t have a clue what it is since he hasn’t watched Star Trek much.

He continues asking and Minghao continues ignoring him. At some point, Mingyu thinks he hears Minghao mutter _he’s impossible to watch something with_ under his breath.

At another point during the episode, he feels a buzzing in his pocket, and he fishes out his phone to see _Seokmin_ as the caller. He decline the call, figuring he can call him back later, and continues with his watching with Minghao.

The episode ends soon, and Minghao turns to him with hopeful eyes. “So? What did you think?”

Mingyu takes a second or two to think. “Well… It’s not as good as Star Wars, obviously, but … It’s good.”

“Ha!” Minghao shouts triumphantly. “I knew you’d like it if you just gave it a chance. It’s so awesome, I’m happy you can see it too.”

Mingyu smiles at the happy tone in his voice, and his gaze gets stuck on Minghao’s face. The cute button-like nose, the brown, warm eyes, the red hair falling into his eyes when he hasn’t swept it upwards for a while. The black glasses, making his features look even more delicate and fragile.

“What is it?” Minghao says. He’s looking at him now, searching his face. “Is it my glasses? Do they make me look ugly?”

It feels as if everything silences around Mingyu, and suddenly, it’s just the two of them in this moment that exists. “No,” he says, softly. “They make you look cute. Really cute.”

Minghao _blushes_ and Mingyu feels something in his stomach pulling him closer to Minghao, as if he’s gravitation towards Minghao. Minghao doesn’t back away, he just stills and looks with something at Mingyu. They’re close now, close enough for Mingyu to feel Minghao’s breath on his lips.

Mingyu’s voice is a whisper now. “I fucking love your glasses.”

Mingyu doesn’t know if it's him or Minghao, but the gap closes between them and their lips meet. It’s so light, so at first, Mingyu feels a swarm of butterflies escaping their cage in his stomach, setting free a fluttering so wild it makes Mingyu feel dizzy.

The kiss quickly deepens, Minghao meeting Mingyu’s enthusiasm, and Mingyu puts his hands around his neck to pull him closer. Minghao’s skilled at this, Mingyu can tell. The

whole kissing ordeal. He knows exactly how to make Mingyu come closer, to reduce any space between their bodies.

He tastes like clementines and some kind of soap and Mingyu likes this better than fighting.

Mingyu’s eyes are closed, and Minghao’s arms are around his waist, keeping him put, and he likes this _so much_ better than fighting.

Suddenly, Mingyu’s and Minghao’s lips part as he feels a pair of hands pushing at his chest, making him fall off the bed. He’s on the floor now, and he groans at the elbow that hit the floor harshly. He opens his eyes, and he stands up to watch Minghao getting off the bed like it has burned him, eyes wide and his fingers lightly touching his lips.

Minghao looks at his own fingers with a shocked kind of expression, and Mingyu feels a stab in his chest at the sight, already making up apologies in his head. Minghao looks at him now, with open eyes and mouth. Mingyu is just about to say something, _anything_ , when Minghao's face suddenly changes. The mouth closes and becomes a straight line, the eyes narrows and becomes hard, and his hands at his sides turns to fists.

“Minghao, I’m so so-”

“Fuck off,” Minghao says, so full of sharpness and coldness it makes Mingyu flinch.

“...What?”

“Like, _really_. What the fuck were you thinking? We’re not _friends_ , Mingyu, and certainly not boyfriends,” Minghao says, and the words make something in Mingyu’s stomach drop to his feet.

“Aren’t we friends?” Mingyu dares to ask, hesitant and hurt.

“No, I despise you and you despise me. What the fuck are we doing? This stupid play-pretend game where we pretend like we don’t hate each other guts, that we’re _friends_ , that we could be more. Hah,” Minghao scoffs. “You thought I liked you? Well, you thought fucking wrong. I hate you. Never touch me again.”

Every word full of venom feels like kicks, and Mingyu isn’t sure if his legs can support him any longer. Tears fall against his will, quiet but angry tears. “So you mean these past few days doesn’t mean anything to you? Nothing at all? We’re just gonna continue to hate each other forever when we get back?”

Minghao nods. “It doesn’t mean shit to me. You’re the same, insufferable bastard, Kim Mingyu.”

“You don’t feel like our relationship has changed at all?” Mingyu asks, slowly, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Minghao spits out. “Do you? Did I really make Kim Mingyu fall in love with me on four, pathetic days and make you believe I _cared_ for you?”

Mingyu shakes his head, refusing to answer his stabbing words, his tears coming out faster now. Instead of answering, he takes his bag from the floor and strides past Minghao to the door, shutting it forcefully as he steps unto the hotel hall. He hides his face in his hands and tries to breathe evenly, to not make any sound of crying, so Minghao won’t hear him. After a moment’s wait, he straightens up, takes a deep breath and knocks on Dowoon’s room.

A blonde with a friendly face opens the door and looks startled at him, looking at his face where the tears still are streaming down. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Can I talk to Dowoon?” Mingyu says, his voice coming out strangled and forced. The blonde nods forcefully and goes to fetch Dowoon, who appears in the doorway in a few seconds.

“Mingyu-yah, what happened?” He says with that deep, comforting voice of his, and Mingyu starts crying even more. “Mingyu, talk to me.”

“Can I s-stay here tonight? Please?” Mingyu asks, and he knows it might be a lot to ask, especially since Dowoon’s already got someone to share his room with, but he guesses Dowoon sees something in his face, because he nods immediately and pulls him into the room.

He pulls him to the bed nearest the door and strokes his shoulder. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Mingyu doesn’t answer, and he’s slightly aware of the other guy looking at him worriedly. “Does it… have to do with Minghao?”

Mingyu doesn’t reply to this either, but he shuts his mouth tighter and the tears burns as they fall on his cheek.

“I don’t want to talk about it, hyung. I’m sorry,” he says, sniffling. Dowoon smiles.

“Don’t be. You don’t have to talk, but do lie down now. I think a lot of your energy has been drawn, so it would be good if you slept now.”

Mingyu nods. “I can take the couch,” because Dowoon has a small couch in his room (why didn’t Mingyu had that as well?).

“No, no,” Dowoon shakes his head. “Take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

Mingyu stands up and walks to the couch, already lying down. “I call dibs on the couch. It’s too much already to ask of you two to stay here, so I’ll try not to be a problem.”

The other guy, the blonde, smiles reassuringly at him. “You don’t have to worry, you seem like a sweet kid.”

Dowoon agrees. “You really are. Then, take this blanket.” He throws a blanket to him and Mingyu covers himself with it, welcoming the warmth.

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu-yah,” Dowoon says softly.

Mingyu thinks he will fall asleep immediately, so tired and hurt and eyes swollen that he doesn’t have the energy to keep himself awake, but of course, it doesn’t work that way, because why would something ever go Mingyu’s way for once?

He ends up laying awake, alternating between shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep and staring up at the roof in darkness. Dowoon and the blonde (who Mingyu later up is introduced to as Soonyoung) fell asleep just after they turned off the light. They were probably sleeping as Mingyu knocked on their door. He feels bad for that.

As Mingyu tosses and turns on the hard couch memories invounaltiry flashes in his head. Minghao’s drawn eyebrows, his defensive stance, his _I hate you. Never touch me again._ Did Mingyu really misunderstand the situation that much? Didn’t late nights of talking, days of working together in that office, this whole fashion week change anything with them? Did Minghao mean what he said? Or did he set this up? Did he plan how to make Mingyu fall for him, just to being able to crush his hearts in his hands and laugh at it?

Then, Mingyu stills. _Am I in love with Minghao?_

_Did I really fall for him?_

Of course, the answer is in the way his heart is pounding so painfully fast, the way he loved kissing him, in the way Mingyu couldn’t forget him after _that_ night.

It’s been there, all along.

Mingyu just didn’t see it.


	4. when you love someone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences are faced, hearts are broken and Mingyu's mind is spinning.

Mingyu wants to both cry and laugh.

When he gets down in the hotel lobby to meet up with the others to walk to the hall where today’s fashion week activities and catwalks are held, he sees Minghao standing in the back of the group, next to Sungjin. He tenses, noticing the dark circles under his eyes but also the hard line of a mouth and furrowed eyebrows. Dowoon, who’s walking beside him with Soonyoung, probably notices something in his way, because he puts a small, gentle hand on his back to push him forward, to keep going.

Mingyu keeps his head high, because Minghao isn’t ever getting to peek into his soul as he did before, and he tries to avert his eyes to not accidentally catch the other's. When the group walks to the hall, Mingyu makes sure he and Minghao is always so far away from each other as possible. He really, really doesn’t want to have to walk beside him. Not today.

The last day of Mingyu’s little adventure is like the previous days when it comes to schedules and tasks. When it comes to the _experience_ , however, there’s one vast detail that makes all the difference.

They don’t talk. They avoid meeting each other’s eyes, gets out of each other's way not to exchange any words, to not be as far a

part as possible when they’re working together and being in the same space.

It’s suffocating, and it’s all too much like how it used to be. Painful, long silences with few, cold words every once in a while. Mingyu almost longs to that time _before_ , when this was all he knew. When he didn’t know how it _could_ be. How kind smiles and sweet words could be directed at him, without sarcasm or any hidden motive or menace.

Mingyu is so relieved when he realises it’s time for lunch, to escape and to be alone and just _think_ for a moment. Minghao disappeared somewhere some time earlier, muttering _Need to talk to Sungjin_ and he slips out of the room discreetly in case Minghao is close.

It’s a pretty day for winter; the sun is shining, casting a soft light over the city, and the air is just enough cold to make the breath he exhales come out in a huff of steam. He wants to find a restaurant far away from the hall, to avoid meeting any of his colleagues. He really just needs some time alone.

He walks past the restaurant where Minghao and him were eating just days previous, and the brown inside of the building doesn’t seem nearly as welcoming as it had only days before.

He finds a small, relatively empty restaurant after fifteen minutes of walking. He sits down, ordering almost immediately. He takes off his coat and enjoys the quietness of the place; except for a group of teenagers, an elderly man and a guy Mingyu’s age, it’s empty.

He also finds the warmth nursing his hands and his cold face enjoyable, and he thinks he can spend the rest of his break here.

He soon receives the food and thanks for it, but once the bowl of noodles is in front of him, he stares at it and doesn’t know if he can eat it. He’s hungry, his stomach agreeing loudly with embarrassing sounds, but he doesn’t have an appetite. Mingyu is raised by parents who never let him throw away food as little, and with a sigh, he picks up the chopsticks and starts eating it.

It’s tasteless and he’s empty.

 

 

—

 

 

Thankfully, _finally_ , the last days comes to an end. Mingyu is allowed to leave now and get home to get some rest after a few days hard work.

He packs his stuff in his bag quickly and bids farewell to Dowoon and Soonyoung, deeply apologising and thanking them for being so nice sunbaes to him, and they wave it off with a smile and _you’re a good kid_. He takes his leave and sneaks all the way to the corridor, not wanting to attract Minghao’s or anyone else’s attention by being too loud when leaving.

It’s when he’s out the door that he can finally breathe out. He takes a moment, just to breathe and look back on the grand hotel, taking the sight in, and then he gets on a bus home.

_Home._

He doesn’t think the thought of his dorm has ever felt so sweet.

He gets home soon, to his grateful surprise, and he feels something settle in his chest as he looks up the apartment complex. He walks inside and greets first years on the way to his dorm, and he opens it without a moment’s hesitation.

“Seokmin! I’m home,” he calls out. He takes off his shoes and looks up. There’s Seokmin, sitting on the bed, his back facing him. “You won’t believe what happened. It was all fine, right, we were getting alone great and all-”

“Was the trip fun?” Seokmin suddenly interjects, and Mingyu is stunned into silence. If he didn’t know better he would think it was spoken angrily, hostile. It can’t be though, can it? It’s Seokmin he’s talking about. Calm, funny Seokmin.

“I was getting to that,” Mingyu says, trying to get back to his previous voice but finding that careful hesitation has snuck its way into his voice. Seokmin doesn’t answer, he doesn’t even turn around, and Mingyu frowns as the silence grows longer. “Are you okay?”

“Oh wow,” Seokmin says, and _oh_ , there’s definitely anger in in his tone. “You’re actually asking me, Seokmin, how _I_ am?

“Seokmin,” Mingyu says, voice worried. “What is it?”

“What it is?” Seokmin turns around, finally, and looks him dead in the eye. “It’s always the Mingyu show, that’s what it is.”

Seokmin’s eyes are piercing and so unlike his usual warm, joyful eyes. Mingyu wants to take a step back, but he doesn’t. His throat closes up, stopping him from speaking.

“I know, I’m a shitty friend, I should just shut up and stop whining,” Seokmin says, voice turning bitter. “But you know what? I’m a fucking terrible friend then. I don’t care anymore.”

“Seokmin, what happened?” Mingyu tries, closing on in his bed where Seokmin is sitting so unnaturally still, since he still hasn’t answered his question. Seokmin looks up at him with clenched jaw.

“Like you care,” he huffs out. Mingyu moves even closer, until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I do,” Mingyu says. “Tell me.”

Seokmin’s mouth remains closed for a second, but then, he says, “My parents are just being assholes, as usual. I’m such a disappointment for them and they wish they had a son that liked business, or at least magazines, and not art. A son like _you_.”

Mingyu doesn’t quite know what to say. He’s aware of the fact that Seokmin’s parents have always wanted him to follow in their path, to be CEO of some company and earn lots of money. He had his suspicions of how they treated him because of this, but he has never been that concerned. Seokmin usually is so sure of himself, so sure of who he is and what he wants to do. It had seemed like he just shook off his parents’ talk and didn’t spend much energy digging into that, but it seems like Mingyu was wrong.

Suddenly, Seokmin laughs. It’s strained and bitter and so very not Seokmin-like. “Well, you wouldn’t have noticed, would you? Everything’s about you all the goddamn time. Did you even notice that I was in pain? That I was not feeling okay anymore?” He searches his face for a moment, and then nods. “Like I thought. You didn’t have a clue.”

Seokmin stands up, and Mingyu numbly follows. “Don’t bother. I’m going out.”

“Where?” Mingyu says, because that’s what he can say.

Seokmin narrows his eyes. “I’m just going. Don’t go after me.”

Seokmin brushes past him to the door, and Mingyu closes his eyes, wishing away the last twenty four hours. He hears the door open, and then, it stills. Mingyu opens his eyes when he hears Seokmin’s voice and turns to him.

“You know, I really thought we had an amazing friendship. That we were both each other’s best friends. That it wasn’t one-sided,” Seokmin says, sighing. “That you weren’t the main character and I the side character.”

Seokmin doesn’t look up as he walks out the door and closes it. It’s quiet now. Mingyu stares at the door, wishing Seokmin to come back. To say that he shouldn’t have said that, that they _are_ both each other’s best friends.

But then, Mingyu thinks. He sits again on Seokmin’s bed, and he thinks back at these past few weeks.

The bags under Seokmin’s eyes. His eyes that so suddenly changed from carefree to troubled once he got a text. The way he would decline so many calls (from his parents? Mingyu wonders), the way his smile was duller than usual on several occasions.

Mingyu hadn’t thought much of it then, of course. He had the insert and Minghao and Jimin to think about, and he thought Seokmin was tired from school work. Or, that he would come to talk to him if he ever had a problem.

 _Then why didn’t he come to talk to me? He knows he can talk to me about anything._ But then, memories flash into Mingyu’s head.

Times he told him he was busy, times he forgot about his texts, times when he didn’t answer his calls because he had too much going on. Times when they were in their dorm after school, reading books or studying, when Seokmin opened his mouth back and forth several times, like he wanted to say something.

Back then, Mingyu remembers, he had a lot of schoolwork, and he was so focused on his studies he didn’t bother to ask Seokmin what it was. He thought he really needed to get done with that assignment.

Then, it hits him. _“It’s always the Mingyu show,”_ as Seokmin put it. It’s _him_. He’s the problem. He’s the one who puts school, internship, even _Minghao_ over Seokmin. He’s the one who only talks about himself, babbling about his own problems until his mouth has gotten weary and his mind has gotten sleepy. He’s the one that takes so much and give so little.

He groans, putting his face in his hands. _Have I always been like this? Or just lately? Have my selfish actions pushed away Seokmin? Has they pushed away other people? My family, my friends, my colleagues?_

Then, as on cue, Seokmin’s words play in his head. _Well, you wouldn’t have noticed, would you? Everything’s about you all the goddamn time._ Over and over and over again, until Mingyu feels like his head is gonna burst and like his lungs are gonna squeeze together into a small, small clump.

He puts on music to drown his own thoughts and lays down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling, wondering about so many things. One thing, though, is the most prominent in his head;

_How did things end up like this?_

 

 

—

 

 

Seokmin avoids him like the plague when they’re both in the dorm and Minghao doesn’t even spare him a glance at work. Mingyu thinks he’s gonna cry.

What do to when it feels like everything's falling apart and that everyones hates you (for good reasons)?

Hide in the library.

Mingyu’s sure the people that don’t want to see him won’t come here because of two reasons; a) Seokmin doesn’t like studying at the library, he just burrows books and studies at their dorm and b) Minghao doesn’t even burrow books in the library for school projects.

He figures it’s a safe place, and it’s so quiet and calm that it almost compensates for the loud and obnoxious mess in Mingyu’s mind.

Mingyu spots a good spot almost immediately, a table and some chairs right by the windows secluded by the massive book shelves around him. He sits down and inhales the familiar smell of old books and paper after so many late nights of last-minute studying here.

He decides to stare out the window, on the ongoing traffic outside the campus, and he wonders why there must be nice days when he’s really not in the mood. Why isn’t there pouring rain, white flashes and booming thunder right now? Or a grey, dull filter on the whole landscape?

He feels like rain and thunder and greyness. He doesn’t feel like sunshine and a warm breeze.

As he looks out the window, he sees a familiar mop of hair in the corner of his eye. He looks a little to the right and sees Jimin there, next to a see-through bus station. She’s wearing a big, black coat and her hair is in a loose ponytail. Mingyu wants to tell her to pull the coat’s hood over her head to stay warm these cold days. She seems to be waiting for something, because she’s looking back and forth on the road. Then, a bus arrives, and Mingyu sees her getting on the bus.

The bus drives away and Mingyu follows its gaze. He thinks of the last time he spend time with her, that was too long ago, and the last time he had answered her texts. He pulls up his phone suddenly, scrolling through his and Jimin’s conversation, and he sees that the majority of the texts are from Jimin and are unanswered.

A little, gnawing feeling in his stomach arises and he puts down the phone on the table. He thinks of Jimin, of her dry but kind jokes, her green cat eye glasses, her brown eyes behind them hinting of great intelligence. He thinks how it used to be between them, and he thinks of Minghao and Seokmin.

 _Oh no._ He has neglected Jimin too. Just like he has with Seokmin.

Now, this quiet Thursday night, he regrets so many things. He regrets taking the internship. He regrets getting into so many fights with Minghao, instead of just keeping his mouth shut. He regrets tricking himself into believing that Minghao and his relationship was more than just a cat and dog relationship, more than even friendship. He regrets not looking after Seokmin enough, not noticing his best friend’s inner struggles. He regrets not being a good friend to Jimin, too. He regrets flirting with her (because now, afterwards, it _was_ Mingyu’s poor chances at flirting), leading her to believe that there could be something in the future, when in fact, he was already falling for Minghao.

He regrets so much, and he thinks the guilt and shame will fall down like a comet from the sky and crush him under its weight, smashing him into small, pathetic pieces.

He releases a heavy sigh, putting down his arms on the table in front of him, jutting out the chair backwards to lean his head against his arms. His head is throbbing and he’s so _very_ tired. _Maybe just a minute or two won’t hurt…_

That’s the position the school librarian finds him in hours later, when she carefully taps his arm with a gentle _Hello? Young man, maybe you should get home now? We’re closing._ Mingyu nods, stumbling out of the library, and he doesn’t know how he even gets home, vision blurry and head still hurting, but somehow, sometime, he’s in his wonderfully soft, amazing, warm bed. He registers a voice saying something to him, but he doesn’t understand it, because it’s muffled and low, and suddenly, Mingyu can’t stay awake any longer and he falls asleep.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu finds out the morning after that the librarian asked him for someone who could help him home, and in his daze he must’ve said Seokmin’s number, because the kind librarian called Seokmin to ask him pick him up. Seokmin helped him the last, short bit to their dorm and didn’t have the chance to tuck him in properly before he was asleep.

All this Mingyu finds out through Seokmin, who skipped his first class to check up on him when Mingyu finally woke up. Seokmin, who’s still not really looking at him, but answers his

questions of how he got home with a calm, distant voice. After Seokmin has checked if he needs water or anything else, he excuses himself - “I can’t miss next class” - and leaves him alone.

Mingyu lays under his covers now, thinking of the way Seokmin must’ve come late at night to the library to support his heavyweight all the way to their dorm. He must’ve been tired and angry at him but he still came. He still helped Mingyu, like he has always done.

That makes Mingyu feel a spark of hope ignite in his stomach. He doesn’t try to put it out, because _maybe this mess can be fixed_. Mingyu knows he shouldn’t be forgiven so easily, that they should just ignore this issue and never talk about it again. Because that would only lead to more anger and bitterness in the future.

But Mingyu thinks that maybe, _maybe_ , there’s a way to fix this.

 

 

—

 

 

Mingyu knows one person he can call that would give him good advice for this. One person that would not let him down. He types her number on Saturday morning, when he’s all alone in his dorm once again, and of course, she picks up.

“ _Mingyu-yah!_ ” She screeches, and Mingyu can’t help but laugh.

“Hi mom,” he says, and she continues her wailings of happiness.

“ _I’m so happy you called, you never call us anymore,_ ” she says, and he can picture her stern look melting into an amused one.

Mingyu makes a sound of regret. “I’m sorry, mom. I’ve just been so busy here, with the magazine and all.”

_“Oh right! How is it going, dear?”_

“Well,” Mingyu says, not sure if he should bring up Minghao or not. He has complained about him to his mom before, but since he already needs advice with Seokmin, he figures to spare her the whole Minghao-situation too. “It’s doing fine. We’re doing that insert, you know, and it’s gonna be published next week.”

“ _I’m so excited!_ ” She says, and Mingyu smiles at the sincere tone. “ _I can’t believe my baby’s all grown up._ ”

“Mom,” he says, chuckling. But then, he thinks of what he called to say, “Uhm, mom, could I get some advice?”

“ _Of course, dear, of course,_ ” she says quickly, and Mingyu feels comforted by her voice. Her embrace would be even more comforting. “ _What’s the matter?_ ”

“Well,” he says, for the second time, because the shame makes him want to curl up in a corner and never get up. “There’s this thing with Seokmin.”

“ _Oh dear,_ ” his mom says, and Mingyu fully agrees.

“So, I kinda became really focused on the insert? And my internship in general? I have been … neglecting him, I think you could say, for a while now. And his parents are over him about his major and future and all that, and just. He really needed a friend right now, but I was too focused on my own shit to notice.”

He lets it sink in, and then hurriedly adds, because the words feel so raw once they’re out. “I don’t know how to fix this. He’s so angry with me. Mom, what do I do?”

“ _Oh dear,_ ” his mom repeats, and she sounds worried, but not angry, as he expected her to. “ _Well, Mingyu dear, that was not a great move from your side, and you should really think it over, but you know… These things happen, unfortunately. I know I wasn’t a saint to my friends all the time. It sucks, especially for the one that’s being neglected, but talking about it always helped. We all have our flaws, but strong friendships survive even the toughest of things._ ”

It sounds so smart and logical when she says it, Mingyu thinks. “Do you think our friendship is strong then, mom?”

“ _Absolutely,_ ” his mom says, sounding so sure. “ _I have seen you two grow up over the span of twenty years. I have seen you grow up _together_. You’re so tight that I can’t imagine even a jigsaw could separate your bond._ ”

It sounds cheesy and something a mom is obliged to say to her child, but in that moment, Mingyu believes it. He needs it to be true. Because he can’t lose Seokmin. Not in any way or any time. He just can’t.

“So… what should I do?”

“ _Just talk to him, Mingyu-yah,_ ” his mom says. “ _Apologize and try to make it up to him. You two are gonna work this out, I promise._

”Okay mom,” he says, feeling a little choked up, and nods. “I’ll get going to apologize to him, then.”

“ _Do that_ ,” she says brightly. “ _Good luck! I believe in you!_ ”

“Thanks. Goodbye, mom,” he says, and hangs up.

He takes a deep breath before putting on his shoes and coat. He calls Seokmin, and when the other picks up with a hesitant _hello?_ , Mingyu asks where he is.

He’s at the a bench in the park, together with some friends from his class, and Mingyu smiles awkwardly at them before asking if he could borrow Seokmin for a moment. They all agree, waving them off, and Seokmin follows him reluctantly to under a big tree a little away from all the guys on the bench.

Seokmin isn’t quite looking at him, and Mingyu feels a little intimidated still, but he’s not as intimidated as before. Now, he has a goal that he needs to see through.

“Lee Seokmin,” Mingyu says. “I’m so sorry for being such a shitty friend. I need to apologize to you.”

Seokmin nods casually, telling him to go on. Mingyu wets his lips.

“Well, I’ve always been a little too caught up in my own stuff, but lately, it’s been worse. I’ve been so tired and angry for so many things and as always, I just block everything else out so I can deal with my own problems. I’m sorry, though, Seokmin, that I haven’t been the best of friends lately, because you are my best friend and I wouldn’t trade that for the world. You’re probably the only person who knows all about me, and you’re the only person I can always feel a 100% comfortable with."

“You’re the guy who I want to grow up and grow old with, the guy who’s supposed to sit with me in your rocking chair when we’re eighty years old and talk about the glorious past. You’re my best friend who put a bandage on my knee when I fell when we were eight, telling me that it would be alright and that I didn’t have to cry,” Mingyu stops talking now, taking a little pause. Seokmin still looks hesitant. “So I’m sorry I made you feel like you were none of those stuff.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Mingyu wants the words to sink in, but then, he says, “I don’t know if I expect you to forgive me so fast. But I just wanted you to know that I am sorry.”

Seokmin hums, looking deep in thought. Then, he looks up. “I forgive you.”

Mingyu’s mouth opens. “What?”

“I forgive you,” Seokmin says, and he’s not smiling, not really, but his eyes don’t seem so cold anymore.

“B-but,” Mingyu stammers. “I’ve been a jerk to you, you can’t possibly just forgive me that fast?”

Seokmin shrugs. “I’ve spent a lot of time being angry at this, but you know… We’re all humans, right? We make mistakes and we have flaws. And, well, I kinda needed you but you weren’t there, and it sucks, but I don’t think this is gonna happen again. I think you’ll think more in the future.”

Mingyu nods, because he will. He won’t make this mistake again. But, “You can’t just forgive me that easily, Seokmin. You need to yell at me and kick me and ignore me for some weeks. If you’re being like that, people are gonna step over you and your feelings.”

Seokmin shrugs again. “Well, you may be right, but I’d rather be too naive and spread a little too much love than to be a pessimist and don’t spread love at all. You get me?”

“Wow,” Mingyu says. “That’s seriously so wise.”

“I know,” Seokmin says in that same carefree way, but then his eyes darken. “But don’t think you’re completely off the hook just yet. I forgive you but I still feel a little bitter, if I’m being honest.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “No, of course not, so please, punish me.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Punish you sounds boring. No, I think I’m gonna take up on that pizza offer you made some time ago…”

Now, there’s a smile. Mingyu smiles too, and he puts his arm around Seokmin’s shoulder to lead him the way. Seokmin bids goodbye to his friends, who all smile at them kindly, and together, Mingyu and Seokmin march to the restaurant. Just as it should be.

 

 

—

 

 

Some time later, when they’re back in their dorm, Seokmin asks, “So, what are you gonna do about Minghao?”

Mingyu hasn’t had the chance to tell him everything yet, but he guess Seokmin must’ve figured it out anyways. That’s best thing about best friend and childhood-friend telepathy.

Mingyu groans. “I have no freaking clue. There’s this major problem that I really can’t do nothing anything about; I like him, but he doesn’t like me back. I can’t _force_ him to like me.”

“Yes you can!” Seokmin exclaims. “Make him fall in love with you! Just turn up the charm, the looks and the good personality and you’re all set. He won’t be able to resist you.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way with Minghao, trust me. Anyways, this is still your day. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

Seokmin thankfully changes the subject and Mingyu ignores that little sting in his heart. It’s all fine now. He doesn’t need anyone else than Seokmin. He absolutely doesn’t need Minghao.

 

 

—

 

 

There’s only a few days left until their insert are supposed to be published, so they’re finishing the last articles and improving the layout. Minghao asks Sungjin to come look at it, and he says it’s good, but that they will have to change a few things.

Minghao and Mingyu work in silence, and most of the time, Mingyu avoids looking at him. But just now, just before lunch, he can’t help but get his gaze stuck to Minghao.

Minghao’s hair is still red, but not as vibrant as before. It’s a dull shade now, and Mingyu wonders if he’ll redye it soon. He still doesn’t want to meet his eyes when they’re working, but now, he looks down more rather than looking away. Mingyu doesn’t know what that means.

He’s frowning down on his computer, typing and clicking with the mouse, and Mingyu can’t escape the feeling that it’s all different now.

It’s not, really. Minghao hates him, just like he did before, and there’s this weird, suffocating silence between them, but something in Mingyu's heart has changed. The fire in his heart that burned at the sight of Minghao still burns steadily, but it’s a whole different kind. The fire that would make the blood in his veins boil and teeth clench against each other has formed into a fire that makes his whole body feel like on edge, to make every move and look Minghao does send a flutter of nervous chills along his body. A fire that makes the blood rush to his ears and a fire that tickles his palms.

They’re the same Minghao and Mingyu, always fighting about anything and everything they can find, but now, Mingyu sincerely wishes they would change.

 

 

—

 

 

“You know,” Seokmin says, dragging out the words as he chews on the food. “Maybe Minghao is just a man with a lot of emotional baggage.”

“What?” Mingyu says, stilling his hand that was just on the way to put the skewer in his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it,” Seokmin says, putting down his food as well. “It seems like Minghao has some problems with himself, since he ignored you after your hookup and then changed during the fashion week and became that person you met that night again. It’s not a super normal thing to do, and like, why the heck would he hate you after a hookup when it seemed like you two were getting on well? My theory is that Xu Minghao has a lot of inner problems and are projecting them onto you.”

Mingyu gapes. “Maybe you should be a psychology major. What a theory.”

Seokmin smiles. “Thanks. And yeah, maybe I should.”

“But dude, this sounds logical and all, but … Maybe he just changed his mind once he saw me at the magazine and realized I wasn’t all that great?”

Seokmin thinks about thinks for a moment, but then shakes his head. “Nah. You’re great, I promise. I don’t think that’s it.”

Mingyu shakes his head. “Let’s talk about something else, this is making me feel down.”

“Okay then,” Seokmin says, but then smirks. “Just so you know, though, I knew you were smitten by him. I knew from the beginning.”

“Suuure you did,” Mingyu drags out the word, rolling his eyes in the process.

“I did!” Seokmin protests, and Mingyu laughs at the sudden expression on his face.

“Okay, let’s just eat up,” Mingyu reasons and they go back to silent eating. He can’t stop thinking about Minghao though, not at all.

 

 

—

 

 

They’re at work, D-1 to the publishing date, and Mr Lee is praising them for their work. “You’ve really worked hard, I’m very proud. Now, tomorrow, you’ll see your insert in print! Look forward to it!”

Mingyu thanks him sincerely and then walks out of his office. The insert was sent to the publishers this morning, so they don’t really have any work to do any more. Mingyu decides to just take a coffee and see if Younghyun, who he hasn’t talked to in a while, is there. But then, he feels a hand gripping his wrist, and he turns around to see Minghao standing there, looking at him with enough determination to make Mingyu’s knees to go weak.

“Come with me,” Minghao says, and Mingyu feels like he’s the heroine in a drama serie when Minghao is pulling him to an empty storage room, still holding onto his wrist. Once inside and once Minghao has shut the door carefully, he lets go of his wrist and crosses his arms instead.

Mingyu is confused; he has no idea why Minghao would want to talk to him now, after days of silence, and he waits for Minghao to say something.

Minghao looks away now, looking like he doesn’t want to do this, but then he looks at Mingyu again, and his face changes from a painful grimace to determination once again.

“Mingyu,” Minghao says, and Mingyu doesn’t think he’s ever said his name like that (he doesn’t think he’s said his name much at all). Minghao stands on the balls of his heels, rocking back and forth. “I need to apologize.”

That’s the last thing Mingyu ever expected from his mouth, and he can’t help but stare at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I realized I’ve been an utter jerk to you. You’re no saint either, believe me, but I’m the problem. I always have been.”

His words sounds so alike with what Mingyu thought about himself one week earlier, and it hits him like a blow in his chest.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you, I’m sorry for my lack of patience, and most of all, I’m sorry for that last night at the fashion week,” Minghao says, gulping. He looks like the words coming out of his mouth are hard to get out, and because of that, Mingyu listens attentively. “I… I think… Well, I think I have this control need? I have felt out of control my whole life, because of my family, my move from China, school… I hate feeling like everything’s crashing around me and I don’t have any power over what happens. And well, I guess… You made me feel out of control.”

Minghao looks so sincere now, his mouth and eyes so open and honest under the dark lighting. He looks almost childish, too, with that embarrassed line of a mouth and his downcasted eyes. It’s like he’s ashamed of himself.

“What we did, that night so many months ago, I thought about it a lot afterwards. But then, you were suddenly there on my first day of internship, and you were an intern too, and suddenly, everything felt as it was spinning and that I was about to lose my grip if I didn’t hold on tight. I just… I just didn’t know what to do. And so, hating you became the easiest option.”

Minghao’s expression changes to a lighter one. “And then, there was working with you those late nights, and the fashion week where we spent a lot of time together, and I just noticed that it was spinning again, that _you_ made it spin.”

Minghao clears his throat, the dreamy expression washing off his face. “So. I’m sorry. I should’ve tried to get close to you instead of making you hate me. Because… I want to get close to you.”

There’s silence, because Mingyu feels overwhelmed and Minghao doesn’t have anything left to say, and Minghao rubs his neck.

“Just so you know, I don’t expect your forgiveness, not now or ever, since I really get if you’re permanently mad at me. You should be.”

Mingyu takes some more time to think, to sort through his feelings and just let it sink in. Then, he looks at him again. “I don’t forgive you now, but …. I think I can, in the future.”

Minghao’s eyebrows are still drawn, and he looks at him like he doesn’t believe him. “What? Really?”

Mingyu takes a small step forward, and Minghao’s eyes turn to a softer, more scared kind. “You’ve been a dick to me, and I can’t say how many nights I’ve spent being angry at you, so I shouldn’t forgive you. But I’ll have to forgive you, because it will hurt in _my_ heart if I didn’t.”

“Why would it hurt in your heart?”

Mingyu looks away, feeling shyness bloom in his chest, feeling something in his stomach explode at his next words. “Because I like you. As in, not quite love but definitely more than friendship. And I wouldn’t bear to continue this thing we’ve been doing, not now that I know how it could be.”

Minghao frowns, and his face morphs into an expression of genuine hurt. His eyes darken. “Accept my apology and forgive me, or reject it and hate me forever, but don’t do that. That’s low, even for you.”

“What?” Mingyu’s the confused one now. “What do you mean?”

Minghao laughs, a raw, bitter laugh. “Don’t try to pretend that you like me now to just play around with my feelings. You were making that up just now, so that you could use what I said against me? So you could hurt me one last time?”

Minghao’s voice is rising, and Mingyu thinks _no no no no this can’t happen_ , since he doesn’t want any misunderstandings or delays, he doesn’t want fights and mean words, _he just wants Minghao_.

Minghao won’t stop talking, and Mingyu is getting impatient. “Is this revenge? Is this because I was such a prick to you? Well, if it is, that’s so fucking low and-” Mingyu walks the last bit to Minghao and presses his lips to his before his sense of reason returns. That shuts Minghao up far more effectively than talking ever could, and Mingyu opens his eyes to see Minghao’s eyes fluttering shut.

Mingyu smiles, and dares to put a hand on his chest, to keep him there, and when they break apart, he can hear Minghao’s shuddering intake of breath.

“That’s- That’s-” Minghao says, sounding a little dazed. “That’s not fair.”

“Did it work?” Mingyu says, leaning his forehead onto Minghao’s. “Do you believe me now?”

“It’s still a little too much to take in,” Minghao answer, almost a whisper. “Maybe I’ll believe it if you do it again.”

And so he does. They kiss and kiss and for two people who build up their relationships on using their words against each other, it’s a surprisingly nice change to start using their mouths.

Mingyu’s lips are swollen and there’s this sweet pressure in his chest when he steps out of the storage room with Minghao in tow, looking back to see Minghao sporting a shy smile. Mingyu wants to take his hand, to feel how it fits in his own, but they’re in the office now, and Mingyu thinks he would die if anyone saw him taking Minghao’s hand.

They have nothing to do at work, so for the rest of the day, they switch between looking at each other with pink cheeks and embarrassed smiles and looking away with pink cheeks and flushed smiles. Sungjin gives them knowing looks every once in a while, and Younghyun asked Mingyu at lunch if something good had happened.

Mingyu didn’t think he could describe this feeling in words.

 

 

—

 

 

(Later, it rains.

Mingyu doesn’t groan or sigh, because even if the weather always seem to change to the opposite of his feelings, he can’t complain this time.

Rain or sun, who cares?

Mingyu certainly doesn’t anymore!)

 

—

“What! You kissed him?!” Seokmin yells and Mingyu would tell him to quiet down, since it’s late at night and everyone in the dorm complex is probably asleep, but he can’t, because his heart catches at the words and he can’t do anything else than suffocate a squeal and hide his face in his pillow.

“I did.”

“You and Minghao are together now! You solved it with a kiss, like wow, that’s really my best friend!”

“We’re not together,” Mingyu reminds him, but the smile doesn’t dim. “Yet.”

Seokmin squeals and flails down on the bed and Mingyu joins him. They’re breathing into the silence, and Mingyu feels so much at peace like this.

Eventually, though, a thought comes to mind and he lets out a sigh. “I need to apologise to Jimin. I’ve been a sucky friend to her, too.”

Seokmin pats his shoulder. “Jimin’s cool, and very kind despite her slightly intimidating looks, so I think she will forgive you. At least, I hope so. I think that girl can kill if needed.”

Mingyu groans, not because she can kill him, but because he’s afraid she’s won’t forgive him. He likes talking to her and spending time with her, and he would hate if he’s destroyed their relationship forever.

 

 

—

 

 

_I’ll be there at 2pm._

Mingyu looks up from his phone and scans the crowded coffee when he’s at the entrance. He can’t seem to find Jimin’s face in the crowd of people. He’s still early, and since the line is so long, he decides to stand in line already to be able to order for Jimin too.

They’ve been to this coffee shop one or two times earlier, both having liking the interior and coffee, deciding that they could hang out there more often. Mingyu already knows what to order for Jimin; either a White Chocolate Mocha or a Caramel Sprinkled Frappuccino. He shakes his head. That sweet tooth of hers couldn’t be that healthy.

He’s just standing around and thinking, watching the passersby when he feels someone tap on his shoulder. He spins around, and there she is, Jimin with that sarcastic smile and green, highlighted hair. Expect, her hair isn’t a dark shade of green anymore. Instead, a soft, peaceful shade of blue takes it place with highlights down her black hair.

“Hi,” he says, and tries to analyze her facial expression; trying to find traces of anger, of resentment, and he thinks her eyebrows are lower than usual, and that the hard lines around her eyes wasn’t there before. He gulps.

“Hey,” she says, and she sounds like it’s any usual day, that they’re meeting up for coffee and easy conversation, not coffee and apologies for something shitty Mingyu has done. Mingyu makes small talk while they’re waiting in line, asking her how she has been, what she has been up to and if she have seen that movie they talked about some time ago. Then, they order, and when they get their drinks they find a secluded corner of the coffee shop.

There’s a moment of silence, where Jimin is looking at him expectantly, and where Mingyu is gathering courage. “Well, Jimin, as you’ve probably figured out already, the reason that I asked you to come here was to apologize. I want you to know that I’m sorry that I haven’t answered many of your texts lately, and that we haven't hung out lately.”

Jimin is looking at him intently, listening, so he continues. “I have been a bad friend to you these past weeks, just as I have been to Seokmin. And well, I think it’s in its place to apologize for kind of… neglecting you.”

He cringes as he says that, because it makes his action sound so harsh and shitty. But it is harsh and shitty, so Mingyu thinks that he probably deserves it.

Jimin nods. “I know you’ve been very busy with your work. And that guy. What was his name again? … Minghao?”

Mingyu tries not to react too much at the name, but of course, she looks through him. “Ah, yeah. I almost understood that,” she sighs, and looks down at the table. “I can’t say that I’m a little disappointed by all this. I really thought that we could become something else… You’re a good guy, Mingyu, and I like you. So, I can’t say that I don’t feel a little sad…”

Mingyu isn’t surprised by her words, not really. Now, after, he thinks he thoughts this too. He remembers the excitement and smiles Jimin brought him, and he thinks, that deep down, he expected to date her. And now, hearing that she expected to date him too, makes him feel mostly sad.

Because, even though Mingyu thought their friendship could develop into something else, he must’ve still known in his heart that it was untrue - even if he and Minghao weren’t more than enemies then, his heart had still started to follow Minghao’s. Unintentionally and without even realising it, Mingyu had ended up liking Minghao somewhere along the way. Unwillingly, and unexpectedly.

Mingyu has this theory; he never stopped liking Minghao. From the moment they met, at that dance floor surrounded by music and lights, he had fallen for him, and through all of that fighting, yelling, arguing, he still liked him. He had never _stopped_ liking him.

So, hearing that Jimin’s feelings and hopes matched his own back then makes him sad, because even then, he didn’t have a chance of really return her feelings. They didn’t have a chance from the beginning.

“I’m sorry,” he says, because that’s all he can say. He is sorry, partly for how he acted before, partly because he knows she’s hurt. Maybe not in the big, heartbreaking way, but the sad, always aching way.

Jimin is still looking at him. “I know. I know, it’s just…. It wasn’t so fun just being casted away like that, you know?”

Mingyu doesn’t know, because all of his friends are angel and he’s the one who constantly causes troubles, but he understands, in a way, too.

“I promise to never, ever do that again,” Mingyu says, solemnly looking at her. Jimin raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t promise things you can’t keep,” Jimin says, tone lighter than the sentence.

“I’m sorry, again, Jimin-noona,” he says, and for the first time, she nods.

“Maybe I’m making it more serious that it should be,” Jimin suddenly says. “But I’m a person and I have some right to these illogical, childish feelings.”

“You’re right,” Mingyu nods. “Do you … Do you think we could still be friends?”

Jimin smiles now, a lazy, kind smile, and the tension falls apart. “Of course. I’d hate not to hear about your daily, crazy adventures all the time.”

Mingyu’s lips pull upwards in a smile at the words, and he mentally thanks Jimin’s parents for raising her to be such a cool, understanding woman.

“Then…. Can we go to an aquarium some day? I remember that you mentioned you wanted to go sometime.”

“That’d be cool,” Jimin says, in that colly yet excited way. Then, she leans forward on the table with her elbow. A teasing smile takes the kind one’s place. “So, how did it go with that guy?”

“What do you mean?” Mingyu asks, flushing immediately, probably giving himself away. He’s too flustered for his own good.

“You know,” Jimin teases. “That annoying guy I’m like, 90 percent you have the hots for.”

Mingyu’s heart decides that now is the time to pound rapidly and for pumping even more blood to his face. He puts his face in his head and says through his fingers while biting his lips, “We … We’re something, now. ”

And Mingyu thinks that maybe Jimin was most upset about the neglecting-part rather than the we-could-have-been-something part, since she’s chuckling so joyfully. And Mingyu is so sure that it’s sincere, the complete opposite from fabricated, because her eyes are so open and amused, and her laugh is too deep and long to be made up.

Jimin continues teasing him in between asking for details and his feelings, and Mingyu almost feels like he’s teased by an older sibling. Or, at least, a very close friend. Mingyu hopes the future will be good to them, and that they will get to discover aquariums and new coffee shops and whatever cool, artsy place Jimin has her eyes on together.

Maybe he could introduce Seokmin to Jimin properly, and they could hang out, all three of them. Mingyu’s sure Seokmin and Jimin would appreciate each other’s company at an art exhibition, they’d probably get so invested and involved in a discussion about a piece that _Mingyu_ would feel like the third wheel. That would seriously be awesome.

Jimin leans back in her chair, lifting her cup of coffee to sip on it, and the corner of her eyes crinkles. “So, tell me everything.”

And so, Mingyu tells her everything.

He’s smiling the whole back to their dorm, and he thinks that friendship is seriously _so_ underrated.

 

 

—

 

 

It’s three months later, when the grass has gotten some of it’s green color back and when the sky looks bluer, more hopeful, when Mingyu is in Mr Lee’s stuffed office, thinking he might sweat to death.

It’s not even cold outside, on the contrary, since the weather has gradually gotten warmer the past few months, but Mr Lee seems to think that putting on the heater to maximum and make all of his employees get a headache is a good idea. Who knows, maybe Mr Lee is of a very sadistic nature. Mingyu certainly believes so now, after ten minutes of slowly getting warmer to the point where he feels like he’s getting a little drowsy.

After a lot of smiles and exchanging of polite _thank yous_ and _you’ve worked hard_ , Mingyu can finally hand in his resignation letter - that’s not really needed since he’s only an intern but for the sake of professionalism they do it that way. As he watches Mr Lee’s finger close around the letter he notices a stain of sweat on the paper, and he closes his eyes and tries not to wince at the embarrassment stain.

That goddamn heater.

Mr Lee smiles again, now sounding a little sorrowful. “Well, Mingyu, I can’t say I won’t miss your presence here. You’ve been an excellent worker, and I think many of your colleagues are gonna miss you and Minghao.”

Mingyu smiles back, because he will miss some of them too. Definitely Dowoon, Sungjin, Younghyun, the man who always gives him a thumbs up whenever they see each other (Jaehyung, maybe?) and even Hyewon.

He’s gonna miss coming here each morning, feeling the smell of coffee hit him once he walks into the reception on the bottom floor (they have conveniently placed a coffee machine there. Smart people.)

He’s going to miss sitting in front of his computer in the ad’s department, feeling like he actually belongs there while he works on with the next magazine together with his colleagues. Of course, he’s going to miss the amazing, grand window in the editorial room (where Mingyu spent several hours of his usual days at, even after the fashion week. Sungjin teased him when Minghao was out in another room that it was because he wanted to be near a special intern. Mingyu could only burn red at the comment.)

And he’s going to miss working with Minghao. He spent so many days being angry and childish because of Minghao, and even though the last few months changed to being happy and embarrassed and sometimes angry, he still wouldn’t change if it he could. He would miss seeing _their_ desk, too. Because it was in that room, in those battered down chairs, where Mingyu had let his heart follow Minghao’s. Where Minghao had lost control over _his_ heart.

But, Mingyu supposes, all good things must come to an end. And this is only the beginning, Mingyu reminds himself. Just as Minghao said. _I’m not going anywhere, and you’re absolutely not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now._ Mingyu shouldn’t feel nostalgic already, he should just feel joy at the thought of a new chapter of his life starting. A new chapter where he’s a college student full time, where he can focus solely on his studies and on Minghao.

A new chapter where Minghao can get to his and Seokmin’s dorm Friday night to either take him out to eat at a restaurant or to make noodles and join in on movie night. Where Mingyu walks Minghao to classes or the other way around. (Because, Mingyu had found out with absolute wonder, they study at the same college. _They. Study. At. The. Same. College._ He really should’ve figured it out earlier though, since the club they met at was a popular club for college students in that area. Sigh.)

So, Mingyu says with a sincere and steady voice, “I will miss all of you too. Thank you, once again, Mr Lee, for having me here. It’s been a pleasure.”

Mr Lee nods and waves him off. “Now, go. Study hard and keep trying to make Seokmin change his mind regarding his major!”

Mingyu is tempted to tell him off about Seokmin’s major, since it’s not any of his business and since Seokmin wouldn’t change his mind in a hundred years anyways, but just for this time, he holds himself back. Because he’s thankful to Mr Lee, and because he doesn’t want to make a bad _last_ impression.

But next time. Mingyu won’t be employed by Mr Lee and he’s not going to hesitate to defend Seokmin and his dreams. He’ll protect his friend with every chance he got.

Mingy walks out the door, and he’s met by a wave of fresh air. He gulps down handfuls of the cool air and sighs happily.

“I told you it was gonna be hot,” Mingyu hears from behind him and he swivels around to see Minghao standing there, leaning against the wall with a smirk on his lips. “He really should stop turning on that heater.”

“Definitely.” Mingyu smiles, and walks towards him. He takes Minghao’s hand in his own, and Minghao looks up at him with round eyes. They’ve tried to keep the skinship at work to a minimum, and Mingyu knows this, but he only shrugs this time in response. _So what? We’re no longer interns here._

Mingyu guesses Minghao can’t argue with this, because his grip tightens and he gives it a squeeze. They walk out the building together, hand in hand, greeting their colleagues one last time with nods and smiles and hugs (turns out, Sungjin is an emotional man. Dowoon even more so.)

They take the elevator down, and when they step out of the building for the last time, they sigh as they turn to look at their workplace before they go.

“Remember when we first met here?” Minghao suddenly says. “We were in the cafeteria, and I was pretending I didn’t know you.”

Mingyu laughs. “That was so stupid of you.”

“True,” Minghao agrees. “But, then again, you did some nasty things too.”

Mingyu shrugs. “You started it, jerk.”

Minghao pushes his shoulder, and Mingyu returns the favor. They end up smiling at each other, so comfortable in the knowledge of how to act around each other. At first, it was kind of awkward. They had been so used to despising each other that they didn’t know how to do this new, unpracticed dance.

So they decided not to. They just continued with the comments and jokes, but now, in a stark contrast to before, the comments doesn’t hold that sharpness and iciness, and the jokes isn’t on the other’s expense. They joke around and mutually judge each other with a new, gentler kind of way and, steadily and slowly, they became comfortable with their new and changed relationship. Minghao loved, and still loves, getting on Mingyu’s nerves, because he knows that then, Mingyu will kiss him to make him shut up. Minghao’s a little shit in that way.

Mingyu looks at him now. His little shit, standing in the spring sunshine with the first button on his loose-fitting shirt opened and with his (newly dyed) black hair. Mingyu’s still not used to the color. He thinks he could be, though. He thinks he could get used to the feeling of pulling his hand through Minghao’s soft, shiny, black - _black!_ \- hair.

Minghao looks back at him now, and Mingyu only smiles at him. “Let’s go eat?”

“Sure,” Mingyu says, and adds, with a smirk. “Let’s order the lamest, mildest thing on the menu.”

Minghao basically growls. “That’s my money and you know it! You’re gonna regret that.”

He tries to grab a hold of Mingyu, but Mingyu is too fast, already squeezing past him. They probably look like crazy youths to the other people on the street; running around, yelling their lungs out, laughing as Minghao caughts Mingyu from behind.

Minghao turns him around to face him, and Mingyu is feeling even more breathless now, now that he’s so close to Minghao’s face. He really wants to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, but they’re in public, and Minghao gets so easily shy and embarrassed, so Mingyu restrains himself. Instead, he settles with looking down on his face and taking in every millimeter of that gentle, sincere smile on Minghao’s face as he looks up with him with what Mingyu thinks is sparkling eyes.

Their new chapter is going to be an awesome one, Mingyu knows already.

It won’t be one filled with mistakes that leads to getting a boyfriend - at least, Mingyu doesn’t hope so. He’s pretty content with the boyfriend he’s got right now.

Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a chapter full of even more insulting comments half-heartedly tossed over their shoulder with a smile. Maybe it’ll be a chapter filled with slow, slow kisses and intertwining hands. Maybe it’ll be a chapter full of the aching beauty that is everyday actions and dates.

Whatever it will be, he’s positively sure it’s going to be freaking great. Because he’s with Minghao. And Minghao isn’t going anywhere and neither is Mingyu. They’re going to be together. That’s all Mingyu can ask for right now.

For once, Mingyu is happy for his terrifying, wonderful mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have come so far; congratulations!! let me know if you liked it in the comments :D


End file.
